Tell Me Tomorrow
by The Petulant Prodigy
Summary: Ichigo Kurosaki, the perfect student. Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, the perfect delinquent. Complete opposites, opposing forces...but perfection always was in the eye of the beholder, right? Grimmjow/Ichigo, Chapter 15 begins Gin/Shuhei. AU, OOCness, Yaoi
1. Veritas

**-Tell Me Tomorrow-**

_'Everybody hates me_

_Everybody wanna fight_

_We can't stand to wake up in the sun_

_But can't sleep in the moonlight.'_

**-Chapter One: Veritas**-

Grimmjow shifted in the bed that was too small for his tall frame, brushing against a small warm body as his alarm blared from his cell on the wood side table. He slammed his hand down on it to shut it up, running a hand through his thick blue locks, sighing. His little sister had crawled into bed with him again; it was becoming a bad habit, but he never turned her away. She was starting to fuss, her eyes not open as she murmured something and tried to burrow into his exposed side.

He gently ran a hand through her aqua colored hair as he noticed the trail of drool hanging from the corner of her mouth.

"Time to get up, baby," Grimmjow murmured, his voice soft. His voice was only ever soft with his baby sister. Fuck, the only time he ever sounded vulnerable was when it came to the six year old.

Her grey eyes finally opened, blinking several times as she rubbed them with both tiny fists, "Grimmy."

"I gotta go to school, baby," Grimmjow said, trying to stand up out of the bed without disturbing her waking frame. Most days he could get out of the bed without waking her, but she had slept on the side of the bed that didn't have the wall this time, "I can't be late again."

She shifted out of his way, flopping onto his pillow as he got up and started hunting the floor of the microscopic bedroom for a clean shirt. He pulled the white wife beater he had been wearing over his head and quickly changed into a red t-shirt before hunting through his abomination of a closet for a black hoodie.

"Are you coming home after school Grimmy?" his baby sister asked, curling up into a comfortable position on Grimmjow's neglected pillows.

Grimmjow adjusted his belt buckle on his dark-washed jeans, wondering if he could splurge enough of this week's paycheck to finally buy a new pair. With his mom still jobless, all his earnings from the garage were going straight to rent and his family's stomachs, "You know I will, Monster. It's Monday."

His baby sister giggled happily, knowing Monday was her brother's only day off from work.

"Will you make me spaghetti for dinner, Grimmy?" she asked in her adorable lisp.

"Yah," Grimmjow promised, pulling the hoodie over his head and adjusting it before making his way over to his baby sister and placing a kiss on her forehead, "Come on, let's go make some breakfast."

"Okay!" she said happily, following at her brother's heels as Grimmjow had to duck under the low awning of his room. He was 6'3'', and for his sake and everybody else's, he hoped he was done growing.

After leaving his room and walking down the short hallway with the peeling paint and creaking floorboards, he flicked the switch to the small kitchenette and began rummaging through a side cabinet, pulling out a nearly empty box of cereal. He poured two bowls and moved to the barely-running refrigerator to grab milk.

Grimmjow cursed in his head when he opened the door to find half a package of bread, a molding banana, and a bottle of mustard.

"Why didn't mommy buy milk yesterday, Monster?" Grimmjow said, turning his head to look at his baby sister who was now sitting at the wood kitchen table, her short legs swinging in front of her as she sucked on her thumb.

She looked away, her bangs hiding her eyes.

"Baby, if you know…" Grimmjow trailed off, knowing damn well he had given his mom 200 yen yesterday for groceries, "You can tell me."

"Mommy said she didn't feel good," she finally whispered, playing with her spoon Grimmjow had set out, "said she had to buy medicine."

Grimmjow cussed under his breath, slamming the refrigerator door closed before setting the bowl of dry cereal in front of his sister, "Gonna have to eat it dry today, baby. I'll be right back."

"Kay," she whispered, beginning to munch on the sweetened corn puffs almost instantly as Grimmjow walked back down the short hallway and cracked open the wooden door to his mother's room.

_Medicine my ass_, Grimmjow growled internally, seeing his mother passed out in the middle of her bed. There weren't any sheets on the bed, considering Grimmjow had had to take them off a few nights ago due to one of many of his mother's drunken fits. She had come home completely trashed and had proceeded to throw up all over her bedding. And here she was again, passed out with an empty bottle of liquor on her nightstand.

He went over to his mother and kicked her leg, waiting for a response, "Wake up, mom."

He began shaking her shoulder when he grew impatient, until she finally huffed and rolled over, cursing, "What? What? What do you want?"

"I told you to buy groceries yesterday," Grimmjow growled, knocking over the empty bottle on the nightstand as he drilled holes into his mother's head, "So what the fuck are you doing here with an empty bottle of tequila?"

"Don't fucking talk to me like that," she huffed, sitting up and running a hand over her face, "Fuck, I'm a grown woman. I don't need you giving me shit."

"That money was for food," Grimmjow hissed, "What do you expect Neliel to eat?"

"We've never starved before," his mother growled, waving her hand as she pushed him out of the way as she stood up shakily. She was definitely not sober; he had hoped she was nursing a hang over, but it looked like she had gotten started good and early that morning getting trashed. It was a weekly ritual that Grimmjow was getting fucking tired of.

"You didn't go lookin' for a job yesterday either, did you?" Grimmjow interrogated, watching his mother stumble to the bureau to rummage through drawers, "Fuck mom, it's been almost a year. The well fare check ends after next month."

"I fucking know that!" she screeched, turning on him, standing in a stained pink bathrobe, her long black hair looking like a wild nest as she regarded him with blood shot eyes, "I know that, so stop it. Just fuckin' go!"

"I'm taking Nel," Grimmjow said, turning away from his mother, completely disgusted.

His mother didn't even reply as she lit a cigarette and collapsed back onto her bed, rolling onto her back to stare at the peeling, veined ceiling.

Grimmjow slammed her door closed, completely enraged. Fuck, he could not afford to be late to school again. If his homeroom teacher wrote him up for tardiness one more time, he'd be on academic suspension and risked not graduating.

"All done, baby?" Grimmjow asked as he entered back into the kitchen.

She nodded, pushing the other untouched bowl towards him. Grimmjow grit his teeth, knowing his baby sister was still hungry. He shoved the bowl back into her hands, hoping his face looked calm, "It's okay, Monster. I'm not hungry. You eat it up, okay?"

"Are-are you sure?" Nel asked, turning her big, liquid eyes up at her brother, "What're you gonna eat, Grimmy?"

"I'll grab something at school later," he offered as his stomach growled in protest, "But we gotta hurry, baby girl. You're goin' to day care today."

Her eyes lit up as she contemplated going back to the community day care center. It wasn't exactly expensive, but Grimmjow knew they couldn't really afford it. But what else was he supposed to do? He couldn't leave her here with his mother comatose to the world and he couldn't get a babysitter on such short notice. He also knew her pink-haired friend Yachiru went there and that always made Neliel squeal with happiness.

She ate the cereal like a starving prisoner and dashed back through the hallway to their shared microscopic room to grab the cleanest clothes she could find. Grimmjow knew she would hurry since he had asked, and he was down to twenty minutes if he planned to make it to his high school on time. He'd have to take the bus to the day care and run the eight blocks from there if he was going to make it to homeroom before the tardy bell.

He went to the bathroom and ran water over his face and through his hair, his cerulean eyes cloudy and tired-looking. He had worked a twelve-hour shift the day before at his night job and hadn't gotten home until nearly two in the morning. And, of course, his mother's deranged boyfriend had been home, fighting with her as usual before storming out and nearly cracking the front door in rage. He had found his sister hiding in their shared closet, her face brightening as soon as he had gone in to find her. He had helped her get ready for bed, too tired to confront his mother about her increasingly bad habits in front of her six year old. He hated his mother's boyfriend with a passion, and he sure as hell didn't like knowing he was in the house when Neliel was there. Yammy was huge, a mountain of a man who wasn't afraid to use his intimidating muscles. One of these days, Grimmjow was going to knock him the fuck out. The next time he scared his baby sister enough to have her hiding in a closet, Grimmjow wouldn't hesitate to put the man six feet under.

Grimmjow grabbed Nel's hand as she blabbered away about day care and how she couldn't wait for snack time.

**XXX**

Ichigo was staving off his boredom in homeroom by drawing a very detailed eye in his composition notebook while his friend Keigo chattered away to his left about how the weekend had been so spectacular and how he had come _this close_ to sleeping with a college girl. Ichigo felt almost bad about tuning his little posse out, but it was still early in the morning, and he really couldn't find it in himself to care what his friends blabbed about these days. Everything was always so trivial, and Ichigo didn't give a damn who his friends were screwing or where they were partying.

Weren't there more important things to worry about in life? Like passing the college entrance exams and getting into a pre med program to study medicine and learn everything one could possibly learn about the human anatomy? Or worrying about his father's increasing debt that was being accumulated at the tiny, family-run clinic only a few minutes' drive from the house he had lived in his entire life? Ichigo found the list never seemed to end, especially when he started thinking about his little sister who had been confined to a wheelchair since she was born, while her twin acted like a rabid guard dog and was one of the most anti-social beings on the planet.

"Oi, earth to Ichigo!" Keigo yelped, slapping the back of Ichigo's head playfully, "Didn'tcha hear anything I just said?"

"Touch me again and I'll break your fingers," Ichigo said calmly, his chocolate brown eyes beaming lasers through Keigo's skull.

Keigo laughed nervously, knowing it was no empty threat. Ichigo had become a black belt at the age of twelve, and he was known for his fighting abilities. One became quite good at fighting when taunted and made fun of growing up just for having a strange head of hair. What the fuck was so weird about orange? How come the redheads didn't catch the same shit? Wasn't it in the same color family?

"Just playin', Ichi," Keigo said, lifting his own notebook, "I was sayin', did you do the homework for today?"

Ichigo just rolled his eyes, already denying Keigo what he wanted, "Maybe instead of chasin' pussy this weekend you should have thought about the fuckin' exam we have tomorrow."

"Mm," Chad nodded from his desk kitty-corner from Ichigo. Keigo blanched at both of them, as if unbelieving that passing high school could take priority over sex. Chad was a good friend to have around, and out of his circle of friends, Ichigo considered him one of his favorites. He was tall, stoic, and barely ever spoke, which was perfectly fine with Ichigo. He also cared about his grades, which meant Ichigo had a friend that he could actually study for exams with without worrying about them losing focus or wanting to take a break to smoke pot. The little shitheads.

The classroom door slid open to reveal Ukitake-sensei, his silver-white hair free-flowing down his back. Ichigo rolled his eyes as he heard a few girls giggle and couldn't help but smirk as a paper airplane sailed across the room, headed for the garbage can as Ukitake-sensei put down his briefcase and adjusted his podium stand before addressing the class.

After doing the standard bowing and greeting of the morning, the classroom door slid open again, the entire class's eyes swiveling to see who had dared to come in late.

A few boys scoffed upon recognition and Ichigo could see a few girl's had turned pink in the face. Ichigo studied the classmate that had just revealed himself and felt a familiar rush of adrenaline assault his veins, making him frown.

The tall student slid the door closed, turning back around to face the front of the classroom. He was wearing ripped jeans and a black hoodie pulled over his head, his muddy dark blue converse making noise as he moved quickly to the back of the room, heading for his usual seat in the back corner closest to the windows.

"Jaegerjaques-san," Ukitake-sensei said clearly, making the student stop and turn around, "I believe this is your final strike for tardiness."

The delinquent murmured, bowing his covered head slightly, "I had…a family emergency. It won't happen again."

Ukitake nodded once, his eyes fixed on blue ones, "I was running late this morning myself, so I will overlook it this time. However, that doesn't excuse you from classroom policies: please lower your hoodie while in class."

The frequently late student pulled back the hoodie as instructed, revealing a head full of messy natural blue hair, making Ichigo's stomach squirm. His blood seemed to be pounding in his ears as he continued to stare at the boy who had been bothering him for the two months they had been in school this year. He had never had the privilege of running into the blue-haired terror, only hearing rumors about the supposed thug and drug dealer. There was no doubt he had gang ties, as Ichigo had seen the Hollow tattoo on the delinquent's inner forearm. He had been amazed at the use of color: black, sky blue, white, and red all coming together to form a mark that meant chaos. Half the student body feared him while the other half worshiped him.

Ichigo was still straddling the fence, as having the boy in his homeroom and in two other of his classes had given him more up and close time with the beast. He always sat in the back of the room, surrounded by other gangbangers that were associated with the Hollows. Homeroom offered Grimmjow two such fellow gang members, Nnoitra Jiruga and Gin Ichimaru. Nnoitra sat to Grimmjow's side while Gin always sat behind him, as if that were his designated place. Grimmjow had finally sat down, his messenger bag flung off and to the side as he pulled out a notebook to start copying down the notes Ukitake-sensei had already started throwing up on the board.

Ichigo finally looked away, embarrassed. How long had he been staring? Of course some of the other students had been as well, but most of them were bent over their desks, furiously copying down everything their sensei said and wrote. Ichigo felt his neck pivoting to stare into that back corner again, feeling like he was going to itch right out of his skin unless he made contact with those deep and disturbing eyes again.

Cerulean blue eyes locked on his, making him turn back around, flustered. He shook his head once, clearing his mind as the teacher droned on. What the hell was wrong with him? He had seen Grimmjow Jaegerjaques five days a week for the past two months, and every day he saw him, he felt the same anxiety. It was unnerving. It wasn't fear; that was for damn sure. At least, he didn't think it was fear. Something about the blue bastard set him off, and he didn't like it.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was a delinquent.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was a gangbanger.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was, most likely, a drug dealer.

It all added up in Ichigo's mind: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was _trouble._

He pressed his pencil firmly into his notebook, nearly snapping the tip as he tried to concentrate. He had to concentrate, get organized, and remember why he worked so hard in school. Degree. College. Med school. Money. _Focus. _

When the bell finally rang to dismiss them, Ichigo looked down at his notebook, closing it quickly before any of his friends noticed.

He had barely written any notes at all. Instead of the war history of the Edo Period, Grimmjow Jaegerjaque's eyes stared back at him.

**XXX**

Grimmjow lounged on the school's roof, his and his friend's favorite lunch spot. Most students avoided the roof as most of the school's delinquents chose to eat and smoke there, ignoring school-like behavior and even getting into fights once in a while. He was currently lying on his back, a hand behind his head as he stared up into the gray sky that threatened rain. It was the time of year where Karakura's weather couldn't decide if it wanted to rain or snow.

Nnoitra was off to the side, his gangly long frame leaning against the tall rusted chain-link fence that kept students from falling off or jumping to their deaths. He currently had a cigarette between his teeth, blowing smoke out of his nostrils like a content dragon, "Fuck I hate school."

Grimmjow sucked on his own cigarette he had bummed off of Nnoitra. He had tried to quit several times, but stress was such a needy bitch. He exhaled as Gin giggled that disturbing giggle that made most people uncomfortable.

"S'not so bad," Gin drawled, his arms on his knees as he flicked his cigarette, the ashes falling near his black boots, "Lots'a ass walkin' these halls, ne?"

"Shit, I think I've fucked just abou' every bitch in this place," Nnoitra scoffed, lighting another cigarette, "Gettin' fuckin' bored. If I wanted 'ta be in a shit hole, I would'a stayed fuckin' home."

Grimmjow blew several smoke rings in succession, watching them fade out as he listened to his friends banter back and forth. Yeah, as shit holes went, Las Noches was probably the grandest of them all. The Japanese-Spanish slum was one of the worst ghettos in Karakura. It wasn't uncommon to hear gunshots or sirens. It was a place Grimmjow had lived his entire life, albeit not always in the same shitty apartment or complex. His mother had always moved them around, jerking him every which way as she changed boyfriends and leeched off of them like the pill head parasite that she was. The drinking had started after Neliel was born, but Grimmjow couldn't protect both of them. His mother was pretty much dead anyway, but he'd die before he'd let anything happen to his baby sister. She was his reason for fighting to get through school, for pretending to give a fuck what happened the next day or next week. He'd never admit it out loud to anyone, but she was the only light in his life, the only pureness or innocence Grimmjow had ever seen or protected. Neliel was just a baby, a helpless little girl, and Grimmjow would do anything for her.

He'd move mountains to see her smile that gap-toothed smile.

He'd die before he'd let her get dragged into the darkness. Yeah, he had gotten jumped into a gang, but it had been for protection. With kids and adults alike being popped on the streets, he'd needed a strong family-like unit, a back up, a brotherhood. The Hollows had supplied him with that structure, had allowed him to assimilate into a culture that was both horrifying and lifesaving at the same time. He'd bonded with the boys as if they were blood brothers, and he'd take a bullet for those closest to him any day, no questions asked. He'd never say it out loud; none of them ever would, but it went unspoken amongst them. They had pride, and Grimmjow would be the first to admit he was probably the most stubborn, but it was a stubbornness he had learned from a young age. You couldn't protect anything unless you learned to protect yourself.

When Neliel was born, he'd found something to protect, and he'd be damned if he wasn't the strongest for her, if for no other reason. The Hollows were notorious for territory wars and drug trafficking, although Grimmjow and his crew were mostly errand boys sent out to collect from those who had taken a loan. If they couldn't get the money, they collected collateral, and if they couldn't get collateral…well, that's what fists and feet were for. That's what strong bodies were needed for, why Grimmjow had always made sure to keep his body in the best shape possible. It also helped that he ate no more than his body needed for his basic nourishment: his family had never been able to afford more than their basic needs anyway. Grimmjow had been born into a world that offered no clear-cut answers or gave him happy memories of a father figure. The blue-haired, European bastard had skipped out before Neliel had been brought full term, leaving Grimmjow to be the man of the family at the age of twelve. He had been initiated into The Hollows only a year later, the age they started recruiting. Part of Grimmjow wondered if things could have been different if his dad hadn't been a druggie coward, but the other part speculated that he wouldn't be the man he was today if he hadn't gone through hell and back and came out fighting.

"Oi, ya fuckin' listenin' over there, Socrates?" Nnoitra spat, breaking Grimmjow out of his reverie. He'd been so lost in thought his cigarette had burned down to the filter.

He flicked it away from him, sighing heavily, "What, fuck face?"

"I was sayin' tha' ya need ta' come out with us ta'night," Nnoitra said, finally taking a seat on the cement, his long legs crossed Indian style, "Gonna hit up Seretei with tha' boys."

Seretei was actually one of his favorite hangouts, but Grimmjow was tired from working all weekend, not to mention barely getting any sleep the night before. With a pang he realized he had promised Nel a spaghetti dinner, "Nah, not ta'night, man."

"Why the fuck not?"

"I'm not in the mood, ass hole," Grimmjow said, his voice full of venom, "Got shit to do. I got responsibilities, unlike your pussy-grubbin' ass."

"Don't work yerself 'ta death," Gin murmured, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes hidden in their usual smile, "Even tha' King 'a Beasts needs 'ta rest every once in a'while."

Grimmjow grunted, running his hands through his hair before running them over his face as he sat up, the bell ringing distinctly to announce the end of lunch. It had been a while since he'd just chilled with his boys, and he could use some relaxation. If he went straight to the convenience store after school and bought some ingredients, picked up Nel from the center, played with her and made her dinner and got her to bed at a decent time, maybe he could manage it.

"I'll call 'ya if I change my mind."

Nnoitra's grin was in danger of eating his face, "Knew ya'd come."

**XXX**

Ichigo was gathering his books together from the final class of the day, sighing as he shoved them all into his canvas messenger bag. He slung it comfortably over his shoulder, saying his usual goodbyes to the few friends that shared his last class with him and made his way into the parking lot before trotting down the sidewalk. He ruffled through his wallet, making sure he had grabbed enough money this morning to buy the few ingredients he needed to make hot pot tonight. His dad always got home so late that he never cooked, so the responsibility had fallen to Ichigo to prepare most meals. Karin helped, of course, and Yuzu was the best cook of them all, although when she went into one of her small nerve fits, her hands would tremble so unsteadily that she couldn't be unsupervised in the kitchen and couldn't possibly continue what she had been doing.

Yuzu had been born with a nerve disorder in her spine, which left her paralyzed from the hips down and sometimes her body would go into uncontrollable fits that resulted in tremors through her arms and fingers. She was on several medications to monitor strokes, as she had suffered a rather terrible one two summers ago and had been in the hospital for weeks. She hadn't had a major attack like that since then, and every day that passed seemed to reassure Ichigo that she was getting better. Although she would never walk, the medications seemed to make her life a little easier with the rare disorder.

Karin, on the other hand, was the healthy twin. Ichigo couldn't remember a time in his life he had ever seen her sick with anything other than an occasional stomachache or head ache. If Yuzu was the sun when it came to personality, Karin was the moon. Quiet, pale, and intimidating. She barely spoke and when she did, it was aggressive. She even spoke aggressively to Yuzu, but Yuzu's calm and cheerful demeanor always seemed to make Karin calmer, or at least, less hostile. Ichigo loved both of his sisters dearly, but he worried about them on a daily basis; Yuzu because of her physical condition and Karin because of her emotional one.

And it certainly didn't help matters that their mother had died when the twins were three from lung cancer. Ichigo had only been nine years old, but the tragedy had left him growing up very fast. Child-like behavior had been left behind, replaced with a driving force that was found in most adults. Since his world couldn't be perfect, Ichigo had allowed his emotions to die out with his mother and had adopted almost a robot-like behavior.

If his world couldn't be perfect, he would have to be. Grades consumed him; being the best at everything he did was his meaning in life. He had to be the best, had to be the last standing at the peak of the mountain, not only for his sake, but for the sake of his family. His father, Isshin, was a giant kid, and Ichigo, although only eighteen, seemed to be more of the father figure than his forty year-old goofball of a father that refused to grow up. It was as if when his mother, Masaki, died, father and son had reversed rolls and they were all living in an alternate universe where children were adults and adults were carefree children.

Ichigo stepped into the convenience store, waving at the cashier as he called out cheerfully. He came to the store so often that he had developed a bit of a friendship with the strange, big-eyed kid. Well, he looked like a kid with his height and baby face and big eyes, but he was actually somewhere in his twenties.

"What's going on, Hanatarou?" Ichigo offered, perusing an aisle for the spice he needed.

"Slow day," Hanatarou sighed, still smiling, "Glad to see a familiar face, though. You haven't been in here in a while!"

Hanatarou's cheery disposition made Ichigo almost feel bad, "Been busy. No time to eat when you're studying."

Hanatarou laughed, shaking his head, "Your brain's going to explode one of these days. When you going to learn to take it easy and have a little fun?"

"Never," Ichigo said, completely serious. There wasn't time to take it easy. Between school, studying, and his part-time job at Urahara Shoten to help with his family's bills, Ichigo's social life was non-existent outside of school.

Hanatarou just laughed his nervous little laugh as he started arranging things behind the cashier's counter. It was a few minutes later when the door bell chimed announcing a new customer that he heard Hanatarou's voice again in greeting. Ichigo was in one of the final aisles, trying to decide if he needed a box of pasta for tomorrow night's dinner or not when he heard footsteps approaching him.

Ichigo turned slightly, making eye contact with the one boy that both thrilled and scared the hell out of him.

Grimmjow's black hoodie was still pushed back, his steel blue gaze flitting over Ichigo quickly before reaching his hand out, making Ichigo stiffen.

Grimmjow cocked his head to the side as if studying Ichigo before his hand moved past Ichigo and pulled a package of spaghetti from the rack near Ichigo's head, "I ain't gonna hurt ya, kid."

Ichigo felt his ears redden as he looked away, unable to help his temper, "We're in the same grade, so don't call me kid."

"Then what should I call you?" he offered, his voice deep and quizzical.

Ichigo's eyes flitted over Grimmjow again, his body still tense as he moved to the side, deciding to grab the box of pasta he had been contemplating to keep himself from looking like an idiot, "Kurosaki Ichigo."

"That's a mouthful," Grimmjow said, his face morphing into a grin full of pearly white teeth.

Shit. Was Ichigo still breathing? He had never had a conversation with the delinquent before, and it was all so exhilarating. He was slightly disgusted that his heart rate had picked up and that his tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth like glue. He finally committed verbal throw up and smirked, "Yeah, and Grimmjow Jaegerjaques just rolls off the tongue."

If it were possible, Grimmjow's grin got wider, making Ichigo mentally slap himself. God, why were his knees feeling weak, and why the hell did it feel like blood was pooling into his stomach and legs? Ichigo remembered that these were the characteristics of the human body's defense mechanism known as 'fight or flight' syndrome: his body was preparing to run, not fight, which just pissed him off. He was pretty sure he was scowling at this point as Grimmjow chuckled.

"My mom wasn't exactly sober when she named me," Grimmjow said, shrugging, "but obviously your parents were, Strawberry."

"Don't call me that," Ichigo said, instantly bristling. Only his mother had ever called him that, and he'd beat boys until they bled for taunting him with that pet name.

Grimmjow's eyes flickered over his face, his trademark grin still in place. Ichigo didn't understand how a smile could be so scary; he wondered if Grimmjow was conscious of it and did it on purpose. If Grimmjow wasn't scowling or looking bored, the Cheshire grin was his trademark. Ichigo gulped, suddenly curious if this was the expression Grimmjow wore when he beat people up.

"Ya turn so red when you're embarrassed," Grimmjow said, passing by Ichigo's shoulder close but not touching, "I guess I'll see ya tomorrow, _Kurosaki Ichigo._"

Goosebumps raced up Ichigo's spine as Grimmjow said his name. He was sure his blush was eating his face alive, and he was refusing to believe what all of this interaction had implied.

Ichigo, although not having much of a social life, had recognized at a young age that he was attracted to the same sex. He had never told anyone and had never pursued it, but damn him straight to hell if he wasn't reacting to the blue-haired delinquent. It was the only explanation for his scatter-brained behavior in the classroom, why his body seemed to react to the blunette's voice. Ichigo heard Hanatarou ringing up the register and the drawer sliding open and closed, the door chiming again as Grimmjow left the store. Ichigo shook his head to calm himself, his blood boiling. Why the _hell_ was he attracted to that antagonistic, childlike bastard?

_Get a grip, Ichigo_, he ordered internally as he headed towards the front counter with his armload of ingredients. _Grimmjow Jaegerjaques is completely off limits. Grimmjow Jaegerjaques is the boy that you can never take home to daddy and expect a blessing. Grimmjow Jaegerjaques is the boy that is deadly as sin…looks deadly as sin too, with that perfect body and deep, intimidating blue eyes to go with that shit-eating, sharp-toothed grin. God, he could corrupt anything he put his fingers on…shit, I wonder what those fingers would feel like on me, in me…_

"Shit," Ichigo huffed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to calm down. There his mind went again, off on a tangent that only distracted him more from the real world. Hanatarou said his farewells, waving as Ichigo left the convenience store, the bag slung over his back as he walked briskly down the sidewalk. He would just have to force the delinquent out of his mind; nothing good could come from such thoughts, and even if a physical relationship were possible with Grimmjow, he didn't need the added drama in his life at the moment. _He was just another punk, a street urchin. Nothing more, nothing less._

It would be only a month later, in the pouring rain, that Ichigo would realize everything he had just thought was utter and complete bullshit.

**I'm nervous. Review?**


	2. Aequitas

**-Tell Me Tomorrow-**

_'Everybody hates me_

_Everybody wanna fight_

_We can't stand to wake up in the sun_

_But can't sleep in the moonlight.'_

**-Chapter Two: Aequitas-**

Grimmjow pulled out of the girl almost violently, buckling his jeans as she breathed heavily and tried to regain her composure. She had been rubbing herself all over him in Seretei, the club alive and throbbing, bodies pressed and the air smelling of smoke, sweat, and heat. He had finally dragged the strawberry blonde out the back door and into the alley that smelled like piss and garbage and had fucked her against the brick wall covered in graffiti.

"Jesus," she giggled, trying to grab at his arm as she adjusted her miniskirt with her other hand, "That was fantastic."

"Fuck off," he murmured, shrugging her off and pulling a cigarette out of his jean's pocket and lighting it quickly.

"What the fuck?" she argued, slapping his arm, her gray eyes blitzed from the lines of coke she had probably done in the grungy bathroom not long before meeting Grimmjow on the dance floor, "Don't fuckin' talk to me like that."

Grimmjow began walking away from her, grabbing the graffiti-covered metal door to get back into the club, the bass rattling his eardrums, his cigarette trapped between his teeth. Shit, the only reason Grimmjow could come up with for fucking the bitch was because he hadn't gotten any in a few weeks, not to mention she had gorgeous, orange hair, "Yer a bitch, so I'll talk 'ta ya like one. Ya weren't even tight, you fuckin' dope slut."

She started cussing up a storm, saying something about him having a tiny dick as he ignored her and slammed the back door behind him, weaving his way through teenagers trading rolled yen bills for packets of blow. The fog of smoke was almost delicious as Grimmjow entered back into his learned world, walking around the edge of the frenzied dance floor to avoid the gyrating bodies. He had hit Seretei Monday night but his boys had talked him into coming again later that week and now it was a Friday night, the busiest night for Seretei. The heavily tattooed and bald DJ was mixing American and Japanese tracks, mostly rap and Indy underground. He bobbed with his Bose headphones as lights flashed and the beats blasted from the speakers:

_'Touch it, bring it, babe_

_Watch it, turn it, leave it, stop_

_Format it…'_

Gin's common smirk was on his face as he made room for Grimmjow at the crowded table, sliding a beer towards his best friend, "Did'ja have fun?"

Grimmjow grunted, shot-gunning his beer as the heat and the beat worked over his sweaty flesh.

"She ha' such pretty hair," Gin said, his silver hair across his forehead as he stared down into his lap, his slim fingers working quickly and expertly on a joint. He licked the edges of the rolled paper as he opened his eyes, revealing pale, icy blue orbs, "Ya got a thing fer orange."

Grimmjow didn't deny it. He kind of did. The more he thought about it, his last several fucks had all been girls with red or strawberry blonde hair, the closest shade to orange as one could get.

_Except for that kid in his homeroom class_, the strawberry that had nearly ripped his head off for calling him that. Ichigo. Ichigo Kurosaki. Now that kid had orange hair: it was a beacon of flame in the darkness, and Grimmjow wondered if it was soft or coarse. If he ran his fingers through it, would the spikes make him bleed?

"What the fuck," Grimmjow grumbled, pissed off he had caught himself thinking something so girly about a guy. Guys didn't have pussies, so that train of thought needed to stop right the fuck now.

Gin lit the joint, took a hit, then offered it to him, waving it slightly, "Looks like even a fuck can't distract 'ya. Come on, relax. Yer seriously gonna kill yerself if ya don't unwind."

Grimmjow accepted the offering, taking three long pulls before passing it back, the feeling all too familiar as his mind began to numb and expand. Grimmjow didn't do drugs, had never touched the hard shit, but he didn't consider marijuana a drug. Actually, Grimmjow was in more danger with his cigarettes then the herbal plant, considering cigarettes could give him lung cancer and kill him while all marijuana did was kill a few brain cells and make him lethargic.

Okay, it gave him the munchies too, but honestly, Grimmjow's body fat couldn't have been more than four or five percent when the typical teenage male runs somewhere in the high teens early twenties: he could fucking afford a few binge sessions, and he didn't have work until tomorrow afternoon, giving him plenty of time to sleep off the night's festivities.

Grimmjow and Gin continued to pass a joint back and forth, sipping on another round of beers as they watched the dance floor and Nnoitra suck face with some hoe he hadn't fucked yet. A red bandana was placed strategically over his left eye, his long, stick-straight black hair reaching down the middle of his back as he finally moved the petite girl farther off the dance floor. Looked like just about everybody was getting lucky tonight.

Grimmjow bumped fists with a fellow Hollow member as he passed by, his shoulder length brown hair pulled back from his strong face, half up and half down. He was dressed simply in dark blue jeans and a white and red v-neck that revealed the heavy black tattoo work on his upper chest and arms. His signature shark tooth necklace was dangling from his throat, the giant shark took that he had speared from a shark himself off one of Karakura's reefs hanging just above his belly button from a black chord.

"Stark," Gin grinned, motioning with his hand for their friend to join them, "Take a seat, ma' brother. Haven' seen ya in a while."

Stark slapped hands with the silver fox, a very curvy and darker skinned woman with bleached blonde hair holding on to one of his hips as they maneuvered to sit on the other side of the table. Stark slid in first, followed by the hot as hell supermodel. Gin's grin never left his face as Stark started in on how he had been out of town for a few weeks, got caught up in some shit with a rival gang leader that had resulted in him meeting the hot piece of ass sitting to his right which he referred to as Hal. All she did was sit and blink. Grimmjow was beginning to wonder if Stark's pussy wagon even knew how to speak after about half an hour of green-eyed glaring silence.

Stark pulled out his own stash of weed, tossing it up on the table for them to share. Stark was the closest thing to a modern-day hippie as Grimmjow could conceive: lethargic, lazy, and always spouting nonsensical shit. When Grimmjow had first met him, he had thought everybody was shitting him about Stark being Aizen's number one. Aizen, the man who had started the madness known as the Hollows, called Stark in when there was a job that needed doing that needed discretion and no fuck ups. Usually you could find him smoking weed and listening to rad tunes in his apartment on south side, but when Stark Coyote was called in for a job, he got down-right scary. Not only was he one of the best fighters Grimmjow had ever seen, he also handled a gun like nobody else's business.

"You here fer work or pleasure?" Gin grinned while in the process of rolling another joint from Stark's beautiful damp stash.

"No work tonight," Stark said, taking a super long drag, "but you boys had better be strapped. Seretei is neutral territory."

"A'course," Gin nodded several times, lifting his shirt up to reveal the black .45 in the waistband of his jeans, "And you?"

"Got both my girls," Stark murmured, kissing the immobile and mute Hal on the neck before grinning at the boys across the table from him, "ya know I never go anywhere without Lilynette."

Grimmjow wanted to roll his eyes: Stark was cool as fuck, but he was weird as hell sometimes. He treated his gun like it was a lover, his lifeline. He'd even fuckin' named it after his favorite female singer, who, if Grimmjow remembered correctly, had died from a drug overdose back in the sixties. Stark had a more eclectic taste in music which seemed to belie his twenty-four years of living.

Stark raised an eyebrow at Grimmjow, rolling his own joint between his fingers as he waited for Grimmjow to admit he was packing something with a punch in case of a random rivalry fight. There had never been one in Seretei, in the club or the club's parking lot, but one could never be too careful. Several gangs claimed Seretei as the best hang out in the city, so it had been dubbed neutral territory, but that didn't mean some idiot wouldn't get drunk or blitzed on some drug and start shooting his mouth off and start a war.

Grimmjow sighed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a silver butterfly switchblade, flicking his wrist and imbedding the sharpened blade into the table in front of them, Stark's eyes wide as he grinned at his blue-haired friend, "No heat, Jaegerjaques?"

"Ya know I hate guns," Grimmjow hissed, removing the blade and flicking it almost expertly back into its closed and locked position before sliding it back into his pocket; he had the twin blade in the side of his boot. He'd had to use them several times, but he had never actually killed anyone. Hell, he was eighteen years old in only a few weeks and had no part in the drug cartel whatsoever, but sometimes rival gangs got snarky and jumped Hollow members when they were either alone or in too small of a group to defend themselves well. The Soul Reapers were their biggest enemies, the fucking little pricks. They always tried to start shit in huge packs, which had left Grimmjow vulnerable twice in the past few years. He had two wicked scars across his chest to prove it. It was the only time Grimmjow had ever been to an emergency room in his life, and the only time he had ever relied on a medication. He was amazed that he hadn't gotten hooked on the painkillers he had been given, but Grimmjow had always known he would never be a pill popper. Years of living with his strung-out mom had been enough to turn him off from that lifestyle completely.

Besides, he was pretty fucking good with knives and blades. His old man had actually given him his first blade, a pretty little piece. The crazy fuck had given it to him on Christmas day, his only present due to their living in a one-bedroom apartment in the Inner Seam, the central cesspool of Las Noches.

Grimmjow could still hear his dad mumbling on and on in German about how no son of his was going to grow up a defenseless little bitch. Grimmjow could still remember how pissed off his mom had been at the present, but Dietrich Jaegerjaques always got his way, either through words, or through his fists.

Grimmjow could still feel the blade in his hand, how his pointer finger had moved the blade back and forth, back and forth into the locked and unlocked position as his father chuckled in that deep, long-term smoker voice: _He's my little blue beasty, aren'tcha, Grimm? _

Grimmjow had nodded, resulting in his dad ruffling the blue locks that were identical to his own. It had always been extremely rare for his father to touch him tenderly; the action had been so simple, but it had been the equivalent of a hug or a kiss on the forehead. It was the only time, in fact, Grimmjow could ever remember his dad touching him in an affectionate way. Of course there had been plenty of times where the physical contact had been drunken aggressive shoving or slapping.

He'd gone to school in jackets, hoodies, or long-sleeved shirts all through elementary to hide the bruises his father used to inflict. Grimmjow could still remember one of his teachers, an extremely tender woman with laugh lines and orange hair had placed her hands on his face, her smile sad as she asked Grimmjow if he was being taken care of at home. Of course Grimmjow had jerked away from her, his hands gripping at his arms as he denied the treatment his teacher believed he was receiving at home.

_"Your face is bruised," Inoue-sensei had said quietly, "Grimmjow, please, if you're being mistreated, I will do everything in my power to help you."_

She had hugged him carefully, even if he did flinch at her touch. She had ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the blue locks and smiling at him warmly, "You're such a good kid, Grimmjow. It hurts me to think that someone would ever hurt you."

Grimmjow had still refused to tell her anything, but he had actually enjoyed that year in school. Kids teased him for his hair or because of where he lived; some of them even pushed him and called him names, telling him that he needed to get new clothes and stop smelling funny. Grimmjow would get so angry, wanted to beat them and tell them that he washed himself everyday but that he couldn't help the mold smell of the apartment or the garbage that piled so high in the streets that you needed a snowplow sometimes to commute the streets. Kids didn't understand that there were rats the size of cats and lurkers shooting themselves up with needles and junkies wandering, desperate for their next score. How walking to and from school every morning and every night sent adrenaline coursing through his body like a fire that would never be put out. Only a few of the other students got it, though. Only a few other students lived the same way he did, or if they didn't, they had come from it or lived near it. Everybody else…everybody else had become background noise, oblivious to the world in which Grimmjow had been born into.

And that teacher had _cared, _had actually given a damn about what happened to him, a foreign concept to a young, blue-haired half-blood.

And when Grimmjow went off to middle school, he found out his favorite teacher, that orange-haired woman with the kind brown eyes, had been car-jacked, shot in the head. He'd wanted to do something, wanted to go to Inoue-sensei's funeral, throw a flower on her casket or say a useless prayer. Grimmjow knew her daughter had been a year behind him, even though they had never actually spoken: the same orange-toned hair, the same huge, wide, brown eyes. Her name had been princess, or something like that. Orihime, perhaps.

It was the reason he had never touched a gun in his life, and maybe it was the reason he had an attraction to orange hair and brown eyes. Orange and brown, comfort colors, warm colors.

"Knives won't protect you in a gun fight," Stark said seriously, his eyes half-lidded, "One of these days, your aversion to guns is going to get you killed."

Grimmjow cocked his head to the side, brought completely out of his reverie as he stared at his fellow gang member and friend, "I'll take my chances. You've never seen me throw a knife before, have you?"

**XXX**

Ichigo groaned, running a hand over his face as he fought off his exhaustion. He was dead tired, and the riotous club had left his head throbbing and his legs useless. He didn't know what was wrong with him. Whatever had possessed him to take a night off from studying to go out with the one friend Ichigo had that was known for being a party animal was effectively out of his system.

"Honestly, Ichigo, it's not even that late," Shinji snickered, patting his uptight friend on the back, "We can still hit up Seretei, they're open for another hour at least…"

"Seretei?" Ichigo stopped in his tracks, staring at his friend as if he had absolutely lost his mind, "You can't be serious, Shinji. That place is dangerous."

"Pssh," Shinji snarked, waving a hand dismissively, "It's just got a rough reputation. It's totally wild there! And the d.j. who spins on weekends is sexy as hell…"

"Absolutely not," Ichigo said, already shaking his head as he started walking again. He'd had four drinks while Shinji was light years ahead of him. Even so, it was the most Ichigo had ever drunk in his life. In fact, it was only the second time he had ever drank in his life, and he couldn't wait to get safely home and crawl into bed and sleep until he was ready to face his strict and rigorous world again.

"But it's only a few blocks that way!" Shinji whined, tugging on Ichigo's arm and pointing vigorously down an alley on his right, "We don't have to stay long, just long enough for me to get a hold of that d.j. and…"

"_No_," Ichigo said in a commanding tone, "I'm going home, Shin."

Shinji kept whining the next few blocks as Ichigo tried to ignore him, but it wasn't long before Ichigo realized there were people following them. He tried not to overreact, but the small group of males had been following behind them at a distance for a good while. He didn't know whether to whisper something to Shinji or try to get them out of there with his friend completely oblivious, but he noticed that the teenagers were following much closer now, their footsteps distinct as Shinji finally caught on and spun around, his voice angry, "What the fuck do you guys want?"

Ichigo wanted to slap him, but he knew Shinji was plastered. He was leaning before he stood straight again, and Ichigo knew his friend couldn't possibly fight or even run in his condition.

"Ya sure got a big mouth," one of the boys said, his red hair pulled back into a high ponytail as intricate tribal tattoos covered his forehead, neck, and arms. Ichigo realized there were four of them and it made him scream like a little girl on the inside. The headband in the redhead's hair was white and black. The pale boy with shoulder length black hair to his right had a white and black bandanna tied around his forearm, while the pointy black-haired boy to his left had one dangling out of his jeans pocket. The final member was tall and as wide as a bull, built like a gorilla, his black and white headband covering his entire head.

Shinji had just started beef with a sect of Soul Reapers. Fuck, they were so screwed.

"He's drunk," Ichigo said, grabbing Shinji's forearm in a vice-like grip and tugging him back, "Just trying to get him home before he says or does anything else stupid."

The redheaded leader cocked his head to the side and took a few steps forward, the others staying back, the two black-haired boys looking bored while the gorilla grinned maniacally, "Ya know what? I like a smart bitch. Get that faggot's sparkly fairy ass home before I change my mind."

"What the fuck did you just call me?" Shinji spat, stepping forward, completely oblivious to the gang tags on the boys, thinking they were just some street punks. Ichigo knew Shinji was well off, his family having quite a spectacular house due to his parent's professions. He'd been born to talk down to people, so having anybody challenge him either brought out his narcissism or his rage, "Who the fuck are you calling a faggot, pineapple head?"

The redhead's eyes narrowed, his fists balling up at his sides as he stepped forward and pushed Shinji hard, knocking him back against a brick wall, "Do you have ANY idea what you've just started, ass hole?"

"Fuck you," Shinji hissed, swinging sloppily at the tattooed delinquent. The redhead's fist connected with Shinji's jaw, knocking him to the side as Ichigo reacted.

"Wait, hold up!" Ichigo yelled, trying to pry the larger delinquent off of his stupid drunk friend, "Just listen a sec-"

The strike to the right side of his jaw startled Ichigo, making him fall back before regaining composure and reacting. He immediately went into a defensive position as the redhead turned his fury on Ichigo, the other gang members hovering but not getting involved.

Ichigo managed to land a hit to the pineapple head's face, but it came at a price as Ichigo retracted his fist and left his center exposed, allowing the redhead to punch him very effectively in the gut. Ichigo dropped like a box of rocks to his knees, the redhead grabbing his hair roughly, "Ya got something ya wanna say, pumpkin?"

Ichigo slammed the base of his wrist as hard as he could against the redhead's kneecap, satisfied when the redhead grunted in pain and fell to one side, allowing Ichigo a moment to get up, "We don't want any trouble! Just let us be on our way."

"I don't think we can do that," one of the black haired boys said, cocking his head to the side like he was sizing Ichigo up. Apparently he was surprised the orange head could hold his own, "Not after you disrespected a Soul Reaper like that."

Shinji's face blanched, like he was finally seeing the light. Ichigo wondered if he'd wise up and start running now.

All four of the delinquents blocked Ichigo in against the brick wall, not too far, but not too close. Just enough to intimidate and scare the piss out of him as the red head leered, "And to think my night had been pretty boring. My fists need a good work out, Strawberry."

The gorilla man cracked his knuckles while the black haired boys had a new fire in their eyes, like they were ready to see blood.

"Run, Shinji," Ichigo commanded, seeing his friend was still quite frozen farther away from them.

They had never been particularly close friends, but Ichigo didn't need Shinji on his conscience. If he was going to get the shit beat out of him, he'd prefer to do it in privacy and not have anybody else pay witness to it. Besides, he deserved to get his ass handed to him for even thinking of going against his schedule. He never went out, he never walked the streets this late and he had never made a confrontation with a gang before in his entire life. The night had just become that much more complicated.

Shinji took off running, not even saying a word as his feet made slapping noises against the pavement as he ran in the direction of safety. Ichigo was surprised none of them went after Shinji, but then again, he'd pissed the leader off enough that maybe the others were following his lead.

"I'll deal with the fairy later," the redhead promised, his grin feral as he stepped forward and punched Ichigo so hard in the gut he lost his breath, "but I gotta admit, ya got some guts taking me on. Even saved your little fruity friend. You a faggot too, pumpkin head?"

Ichigo spit to the side, looking up into the delinquent's eyes, "Fuck you."

A swift kick and Ichigo was sprawled on the concrete, holding the side of his face that was beginning to swell with blood from scraping against the tarmac. A brutal kick to the side and still he did not cry out. Fuck, he knew that this would happen and he knew that it would hurt, but he would be damned if he showed these punks any weakness. Several blows later, he finally let out a strangled yelp of pain as the others joined in, kicking him quite viciously until he had curled into a small, tight ball, creating a smaller target and protecting his vital organs.

They taunted and laughed, finally pulling him to his feet. Ichigo, his adrenaline having burned off the feeling of drunkenness minutes ago, tried not to fall over as he realized his collar was wet with blood and what felt like sweat sliding down his ear was actually a shallow gash that had been inflicted sometime during the unfair fight.

The redhead slapped Ichigo's face repeatedly, trying to make him focus.

"Ya learned your lesson yet?" he taunted, grabbing Ichigo's jaw so hard Ichigo couldn't help but whine at the pain, "Got any more fight in ya?"

"I do," a silky voice stated.

All the delinquent's heads swiveled at the interruption. The intruder stood at the entrance to the alleyway, wearing ripped jeans and a white v-neck top that showed off the musculature of his chest. His hands were in his pockets, but the stance was in no way relaxed. His cerulean blue hair was spiked up and wild, much like how he wore it at school. He cocked his head to the side, regarding the small party before him, his eyes not on Ichigo but Ichigo's eyes on him, "Gangin' up on a vizard? Damn, when did you all grow vaginas? Bunch of pussies."

Ichigo wondered what the hell a vizard was as the redheaded demon seemed to lose his cool.

"Get the fuck out of here!" the redheaded leader growled, his eyes not leaving Grimmjow's form, "You're on our turf, fucker. Fuck off, before we come after you too."

Grimmjow shook his head side to side, a beast-like grin breaking out on his face, "And miss out on beating your ass? Hell no. I'll take my chances with your cock-sucking little band of rejects any time anywhere, Abarai."

"You're on our turf, Jaegerjaques, and you're alone," the redhead barked, who Ichigo assumed was this Abarai character, "and you're outnumbered."

Ichigo continued to stare at Grimmjow, torn between hating him and worshipping him in that moment. Who the fuck did he think he was? Ichigo wasn't some damsel in distress to be saved by some rogue Robin Hood. He could bloody take care of himself!

Grimmjow's manic grin was seriously scaring him at this point as he started laughing, making even Abarai stare at him like he was absolutely mad.

"Sorry, I'm a little high," Grimmjow offered, running a hand through his hair before stepping forward, "but I'm definitely up for kicking the shit out of a Gotei 13 reject."

"Fuck you!" Abarai bellowed, releasing Ichigo and turning on Grimmjow, charging him like a mad bull as he pulled his fist back for an aggressive punch. Grimmjow moved almost carelessly out of the way, bringing his elbow up and effectively smashing it against Abarai's face. Abarai's feet came out from under him at the force of the impact, landing him on his back as all his air rushed out of his chest, making a strangled "oh" noise. The other three converged on Grimmjow as he took a step back, not even bothering to get into a defensive position as the gorilla-like boy tried grabbing at him and putting him into a choke hold. It didn't work well, considering all Grimmjow had to do was kick the stupid fucker in the balls and he dropped like an avalanche. The other two boys just stared, looking at each other, deciding if it was worth it to incur the wrath of an Espada.

Renji was finally getting up, cursing as Ganju cupped his own goods and looked pissed as hell.

"I can do this all night," Grimmjow said, cracking his knuckles, "But I'm fuckin' tired and I got work today, so how about you save yourselves another round of ass kicking and get the fuck out of here? And if I EVER see your bitch asses beating on a vizard again, I'll cut your dicks off with a box cutter."

"Next time, Sexta," Abarai threatened, flicking him off and backing out of the alley, his boys at his heels. The pack of Soul Reapers disappeared nearly as quickly as they had come. Ichigo was still standing there, holding his side, trying not to fall back onto the concrete. He was so tired, and he knew he would be incredibly sore in the morning. The adrenaline was draining away, leaving him ready to just collapse and get some sleep. He felt exhausted and knew his legs were shaking as he breathed.

"You alright?" Grimmjow said, approaching the berry.

"No I'm not fucking alright," Ichigo hissed, finally giving in and leaning against the graffiti-covered alley wall, "Fuck, I think they broke one of my ribs."

"Let me see," the blue-haired delinquent ordered, lifting Ichigo's shirt and running his hand over the berry's hurt side. He practically slapped Ichigo's hand out of the way as he tried to pull his shirt back down, completely embarrassed.

Ichigo held in a whine as he felt Grimmjow's calloused fingers run over his ribcage, applying pressure to different areas to check for damage. Ichigo cried out when he pressed harshly against his lower abdomen.

"You'll bruise up, but they're not broken," Grimmjow announced, pulling his hand away and tilting the berry's face, "The gash is shallow, but if you feel light-headed, I'm taking you to a clinic."

"Don't bother," Ichigo mumbled, flicking Grimmjow's hand away from him. Dammit, he didn't understand how he could be so repulsed yet so attracted to Grimmjow at the same time. He didn't want to feel anything for this delinquent; didn't want to know what his hands felt like, but now he did. Even though his body ached, it seemed to ache more now that the fire was gone from those strong hands trailing his lean chest. Ichigo shook his head to clear his mind, but that only made him dizzy and almost fall over.

Grimmjow grabbed his arm, steadying him as he began to lead the kid out of the alleyway, "I'm taking you home, and I don't ever want to see your face in this area again, got that?"

"I can go wherever the hell I want!" Ichigo protested, pulling his arm away from Grimmjow as he charged forward on the sidewalk, his entire body throbbing in pain, "It wasn't even my fault! Those fuckers were following us, looking for a reason to fight. I fucking gave them one when they punched my friend."

"Where's your friend?"

"Took off. I told him to run," Ichigo grunted, putting a hand to his head to check if the wound was beginning to clot. Barely, "Never fought a day in his life."

"And you have?" Grimmjow said, his eyebrow raised comically.

"Fuck you," Ichigo said, turning on him and poking him hard in the chest, "I might not be some bad ass delinquent with a criminal record, but I sure as hell am not some helpless sniveling nerd that can't stand up for themselves."

"I never said ya were," Grimmjow said, still deciding whether to get angry or start laughing. This kid was certainly surprising. First he had known his full name and had pronounced it correctly the first time he'd ever even breathed a word to the kid. He had known he was a little feisty, judging on how he had reacted to being called Strawberry, but he'd proven himself tonight taking a beat down from four idiots of a rival gang to save a friend. That took courage, took guts. He'd known he was outnumbered, and yet he'd stayed, because obviously this kid was a warrior. He didn't back down, even if it meant getting his ass handed to him because four tended to take out one.

"But you were thinking it," Ichigo said, his eyes narrowed as he turned away and continued his rampage down the sidewalk, "I see the way you look at me, like I'm weak, like I'm just a smart little momma's boy. I'm just a rich little vizard to you, aren't I? Isn't that what you think about me?"

"You are a vizard," Grimmjow said, trying not to grin at how cute the berry's rage was. Wait, no. Grimmjow didn't associate 'cute' with anything other than his baby sister, and even she had never heard him say the word aloud. No, he wouldn't even allow himself to think it. What the fuck was wrong with him.

"What the fuck does that even mean?" Ichigo seethed, looking at Grimmjow.

"A vizard's an outsider, an innocent," Grimmjow said, his face serious, "Someone who's got nothing to do with our world. No gang affiliations, no ties, not even an underpaid errand boy who might have his ears open once in a while for information."

"Oh," Ichigo said, slowing his walking as they neared an intersection, "then what's a…what did he call you? Sexta?"

"A title given to me by the Espada. It's not important."

"Sounds important," Ichigo muttered.

Grimmjow laughed, walking by the berry's side, hands in his pockets as they began to emerge on the nicer side of the city. Buildings began to brighten, pathways were cleaner and neater. The next residential area was quiet and even had little white picket fences around most of the houses, making Grimmjow want to sigh. One day he'd buy a house like this for him and his sister. He'd already planned it all out. He'd even build her a little playhouse in the backyard, the one she was always talking about. A little space of her own. Yellow. He'd paint it yellow…

"Uh," Ichigo said, running a hand on the back of his neck, "I'm a couple blocks over from here. You don't have to walk me home."

"Scared?" Grimmjow said, completely understanding. He knew his gang affiliations and appearance scared people. He knew he should be mad that Ichigo was scared to show Grimmjow where he lived. After all, he was a crazy gangbanger that might go nuts one day and ride up on his crib and shoot everybody, right?

"No," Ichigo said, looking a little panicked, "I just don't think my dad will be too happy once he sees me. It'd be even more explaining if he sees you too."

Grimmjow was taken aback; it was a foreign concept for somebody not to be intimidated or afraid of him. It was a breath of fresh air, "Alright. Then I guess I'll see you at school, Ichigo."

Grimmjow was surprised to see the berry tense visibly, his eyes shooting to Grimmjow's face, "You remembered."

Grimmjow cocked his head to the side, wondering if the berry wasn't suffering from a concussion, "It was only five days ago, Ichi."

Grimmjow was confused to see Ichigo's adam's apple bobbing, his eyes averting to stare at anything but him, "Uh, right. Well, I guess I'll see you."

Grimmjow nodded once, his face composed as the berry walked away from him, hurrying away under the bright street lights that the richer districts were lucky to have. Grimmjow stared after him for a moment before turning, heading in the direction of Las Noches. It would take him probably forty minutes to get home from here, but he didn't mind. He wasn't really in a huge hurry to get back to the dumpsite that was his current home, knowing full well Yammy was probably over and the thought of that giant fucking his mom through the mattress loud enough to wake the dead made him want to throw up.

So he turned his thoughts to something else, something that continued to nag at him.

Ichigo really was something else. Why was he so surprising? So different? He was just a Northsider, a smart vizard, just like Ichigo had predicted Grimmjow would be thinking. Everybody had prejudices. Fuck, people had more prejudices about him then he ever had of anybody else, but the way the berry carried himself and expressed himself now was so much different than how he acted in the classroom. Ichigo was vigilant, quiet, and fixated on making the best grades. He talked to others but it was always in a reserved way, like he was talking to distant relatives or people he knew he would never see again.

The kid was an outsider, just like him. Was that the reason Grimmjow was beginning to find himself gravitating toward the berry? Coming across him that night being beaten had been merely coincidence: Grimmjow always took the side alleyways when he left Seretei to get home, even though he was crossing through enemy territory. He usually didn't have a problem though, as long as he kept his Espada tattoos and colors from being seen, nobody usually gave him a second glance.

_But tonight had been different. _He'd heard and seen the orange haired student getting beat up, and when he had heard that one whine of pain, he'd felt something inside of himself snap. He wanted to say that seeing the orange hair and the brown eyes had triggered his memories of his old teacher and he'd gone protective, but it couldn't be just that. He'd heard Ichigo's voice in pain and it had made him angry, aggressive. Only Neliel had ever ascertained that kind of protective instinct in Grimmjow, and it scared the hell out of him that some boy he barely knew had managed to make him fuck with a rival gang just to save him. Grimmjow had won tonight, but no doubt Abarai would be threatening him with greater forces next time.

_But the fact that he had cared enough to step in_ remained…it was all messing with his head.

**XXX**

"Dad, really, I'm fine. I just wanna go to bed," Ichigo said, dragging his tired carcass up the stairs while his dad continued to babble concernedly behind him. He had been camped out on the couch in boxers and a white tee when Ichigo had tried to sneak in, but it was fruitless. His father had been awake, watching an old comedy series that was one of his favorites. He never managed to sleep when he knew his only promising son was out on the town. It was a rare occurrence in deed, but it still made Ichigo feel like he was being treated like a baby. His dad was overprotective and goofy, but he had good intentions.

"Drop by the clinic tomorrow after school if you're in a lot of pain," Isshin said seriously, watching his son disappear up the steps, "I'm serious, Ichigo. We're going to talk about this tomorrow when I get home from work."

"Fine," Ichigo said loud enough for his father to hear. He went into the bathroom and immediately turned on the shower, undressing quickly so that he could feel the warm water beat on his hurt body. It stung and ached, but in a good way. It was still an excellent shower after he had scrubbed himself down and he felt worlds better as he wrapped himself up in towels and went to his room, throwing on a pair of comfy pajama pants and a grey wife beater. He had put a gauze on the wound on the side of his head to keep his father from freaking out, as he had come in after Ichigo's shower to prod his head and ask him a billion doctor questions. After making sure Ichigo had no signs of a concussion and reassuring Ichigo that he'd feel like he got hit by a train in the morning, he retreated to his own bedroom, leaving Ichigo alone with his thoughts.

His heart was hammering as he remembered Grimmjow's words before they had parted. The fact that he had even remembered Ichigo's name had blown him away. And when he had called him Ichi…God, that had nearly made Ichigo crawl out of his skin. Why was he feeling this way towards somebody he knew he could never have? Not only was he a delinquent, but Ichigo had confirmed with his own eyes and ears tonight that he wasn't just any gangbanger: he was a member of the Espada, an Espada with a rank, although Ichigo didn't understand what Sexta meant. Grimmjow had to be influential; he obviously wasn't a nobody based on how the Soul Reapers had reacted.

_And the fact that Grimmjow had bothered to step in and save him at all_…as a man, he wanted to be furious that he had been saved by a practical stranger, but as a logical thinker, Ichigo knew he would have been toast if Grimmjow hadn't have intervened. He might not have even made it out of the alleyway, and it made him breathe all wrong when he started to think of what could have possibly happened to him. He checked his cell phone and found at least a dozen text messages from Shinji, wondering if he was all right and did he make it home. Ichigo sent one lazy text back that simply said _'I'm alive'_ before dropping it on the nightstand next to him and passing out from exhaustion.

It was that same night Ichigo first dreamed about Grimmjow.

**AN: I'm feeling generous, so here's a sneak peak of the next chapter:**

_"So, does this mean we're friends?" Ichigo said, sounding uncertain of his own words. It was almost as if Ichigo were testing out a hypothesis with the scientific formula for male-bonded relationships._

_Grimmjow grinned, leaning his tall frame against the railing, "I don't know. Do ya even know how ta be friends with a delinquent?"_

**This is a drama, but it looks like I can't stay away from fluff. ~TPP**


	3. Adpropinquo

**-Tell Me Tomorrow-**

_'Everybody hates me_

_Everybody wanna fight_

_We can't stand to wake up in the sun_

_But can't sleep in the moonlight.'_

**-Chapter Three: Adpropinquo-**

The weekend continued to fly by as Grimmjow went about his business, which was his usual routine. The weekends were always hard for him because he couldn't spend much time with Nel due to his job and his obligations to the gang, which usually didn't get in the way, but sometimes it was unavoidable to take care of some baka that hadn't paid back a loan. He was a retriever; Grimmjow had always refused to get deeper into the gang than absolutely necessary to save himself from getting into too many dangerous situations.

He wasn't afraid, he wasn't even intimidated, but his life wasn't his. It belonged to his baby sister, because without him, Grimmjow feared that she'd fade away, just like their mother. Who would protect her if not for him? Who would watch over her, worry over her and wonder if she was eating enough, sleeping enough? Was she happy? She still laughed, but it seemed even the laughter was dying lately, and Grimmjow was desperate to see his sister giggling and laughing like when she was younger. She was only six, but already her eyes were opening to the world around her, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells like an animal that had just been released into the wild. She was a baby, and Grimmjow was an overprotective alpha wolf. He knew in his heart he'd eat anybody alive that threatened her safety, and he'd give his life in a moment if it meant keeping her safe for even a second.

Such were his thoughts as he dragged himself into the shitty apartment late Sunday night, exhausted from his double shift at the steel factory warehouse. It paid well but it was hard work, and Grimmjow had to admit that most of his physical strength and endurance had come from working at such a place. It was rare for them to hire a snot-nosed brat still in high school, so Grimmjow had always been grateful.

But the fourteen hour shift had taken a lot out of him, and it was nearly two o'clock in the morning. He sighed heavily, knowing he had to rise in less than six hours if he was to make it to school on time.

He had just finished getting a cup of water from the kitchen sink when he heard something heavy slam against one of the apartment walls.

"You'll do what I say!" Yammy bellowed, obviously having thrown something like a chair against his mother's bedroom wall, "What did I say, bitch? What did I tell you?"

"I'm clean!" she screamed in defense, blubbering, "I'm clean, Yammy, baby, you know I am!"

"Bullshit!" Yammy bellowed again, but by this time, Grimmjow was already sprinting down the hallway, rage building in his tired muscles as he stood in the doorway of the bedroom which had been torn to shreds.

"Where's the money?" Yammy was growling, holding his mother's arm in a painful position, "I had yen stashed in that fuckin' drawer, and now it's gone! You spent it on those pills, didn't you? I swear to God I'll kill you right here, woman -"

"Let her the fuck go!" Grimmjow growled, stomping into the room, "Don't fuckin' touch her like that!"

Yammy narrowed his eyes, his muscles seeming to bulge just from his anger. He was huge, a giant of a man, towering over Grimmjow a good six inches. He was broader, stronger, and Grimmjow knew he'd have his hands full if he thought he could take on the man that was twice his size and twice his age, "This bitch stole from me. That money…"

"Was for booze!" Grimmjow spat, ready to deck the man in the face as he grabbed his mom's arm and yanked her free from the giant, "You're just as bad as she is! All you do is drink! Get a real job and fuckin' grow up! You were supposed to be helping with the rent…"

"Let go!" his mother shrieked, pushing away from Grimmjow, "Just get out, Grimmjow! Get out!"

She stumbled towards Yammy, practically begging at his feet. Her hands were shaking, her eyes glassed over as she continued to whimper and plead, completely oblivious to the sickened look Grimmjow was giving her.

"I'm outta here," Grimmjow announced, leaving his mother begging forgiveness and Yammy with his voice like thunder as he continued to threaten her.

Fuck it, Grimmjow thought, opening the door to his bedroom and closing it behind him, fuck all of it. He couldn't protect his mother if she didn't want to be protected. He was done with it. Over it. He couldn't do this anymore. Not anymore. It was too much.

Grimmjow turned towards the darkness of the room, his eyes traveling over the small pit that was their living space. He whispered into the darkness, afraid he'd frightened her with his shouting next door, "You awake, baby?"

That was a stupid question. Of course she couldn't have slept through all of that. He moved towards her bed but immediately knew she wasn't there. Her blanket was crumpled and her pillow was missing, along with her favorite and only stuffed doll, an ugly little thing she had named Bowa Bowa when she was three.

He slid the cracked door to their closet, relieved when he saw his baby sister curled up in a pile of clothes, holding Bowa Bowa against her chest, her eyes wide. No tears this time. Fuck, she really was growing up.

"Grimmy," she said, her voice nearly breaking Grimmjow's heart. He hunched down, balancing his weight on the balls of his feet as he hugged her, then turned and started throwing a random assortment of his and her clothes into his school bag until it was about to burst. He moved to the bureau, digging to the bottom of the dresser and pulling out a sock he had hidden a wad of yen in. When he had put a hoodie on and found Nel's green jacket, he helped his sister into the jacket before picking her up with her doll. It wasn't cold outside, but it was wet from the rain and he couldn't afford either of them getting sick. Besides, he didn't know how soon he'd be able to return and collect more of their things.

"Are we leaving, Grimmy?" she whispered, her voice hoarse. So she had been crying.

Grimmjow nodded against her hair, carrying her so that her legs wrapped around his torso and one of his hands was placed behind her head, as if he could keep her from turning around to see the horrors that might be lurking there, "We're going away for a little while."

"What about mommy?" Nel lisped, her arms tightening around her brother's neck.

"She's staying with Yammy."

"But he's so angry…" Nel whined, sniffling, "He was hitting mommy…I heard him…"

Grimmjow closed his eyes a moment, tightening his hold on Nel, trying to hold onto his sanity. All he had to do was turn around and rip that fucker's throat out…all he had to do was pull his switchblades out and end that motherfucker's existence…all he had to do was walk back into his room and get the glock he kept hidden under a floorboard in case of emergencies and finish this, right here, right now. Nobody in Las Noches would even blink if Yammy disappeared. This was the Inner Seam; nobody talked to the cops, period. He'd practically be a fucking hero for getting rid of the useless giant.

But one look in his little sister's eyes and his throat closed over, forcing him to swallow several times before he could answer her, "Mommy doesn't want to get better, Monster. Mommy isn't getting better."

Grimmjow sighed, clopping down the hallway with his baby sister, fatigue overriding him as he left the apartment, slamming the door behind him as the sounds of rage continued from the apartment.

Grimmjow fished in his pocket for his cell phone and dialed out to the one person he needed help from right now.

"Hello?" a deep, masculine voice barked. It sounded tired and pissed off: he'd probably woken the man up it was so late. Grimmjow had a dozen contacts in the gang he could have called for a place to stay, but Grimmjow refused to let Nel get any farther into that life. He wouldn't allow it, and there was only one person on the planet that Grimmjow even remotely trusted that was not gang affiliated.

"Zaraki-buchou," Grimmjow said respectfully, "I have a favor to ask."

Zaraki grumbled into the phone and the sound of sheets shifting was heard through the phone, "What's up, kid?"

"It's Nel," Grimmjow said, knowing he didn't have to say more. Kenpachi Zaraki was not only the owner of the steel factory Grimmjow worked for but was also the father of Nel's only friend, little Yachiru. Going to pick Nel up from the community day care center had been how he had met the man in the first place, and although Zaraki was possibly the most physically intimidating man on the face of the planet, he had an incredible soft spot for children. The bond through the girls had actually strengthened Grimmjow's bond to his boss, and Grimmjow would even go so far as to say Zaraki was his father figure these days. Two years had been plenty of time for them to grow a more personal relationship than that of employer and employee.

"Where are you?" he barked, sounding concerned already.

"Leaving the apartment. I'm almost to the corner of Hollow and Garganta. She needs a place to stay for a few days. I'll work as many shifts as I need to make it up to you, but there's just nowhere else for her to…"

"Shut up," Zaraki commanded, slamming around his room, "I'm coming to get you, and don't you ever say shit like that to me again. Nel can stay here as long as you need."

If Grimmjow wasn't so emotionally and physically drained at the moment, he would have cried.

**XXX Four Days Later**

Ichigo stared blankly at the paper in front of him, unsure of how to finish the essay portion of the exam. He had barely written anything and it was beginning to piss him off. He kept turning his head to look in the back of the classroom. Blue hair that belonged to a perfect head was bent over a desk, a pencil flying across the packet of paper furiously. Why was Grimmjow not having any trouble concentrating? Why had the bastard not even breathed a word to him since that night? All he did was nod in acknowledgement in the morning, sometimes even grinned. What the hell did that mean? Ichigo had almost given in and confronted the delinquent, but had not done it because he didn't know why he was angry and…disappointed? Ichigo had no reason to expect anything from Grimmjow so…_FUCK, stop thinking about it and finish this exam!_

Ichigo ran a hand through his hair in irritation, rationalizing Grimmjow's behavior. Of course it made sense; nobody had witnessed their weekend adventure, and neither had ever associated with the other before, so going about ignoring each other was the natural order of things. It was how things had always been…

_But I don't want that. I want…what?_

It was the first time Ichigo had ever turned in an unfinished exam.

**XXX**

Ichigo was furious the rest of the day, radiating a hostility that even kept Keigo from telling him a useless bullshit story. Shinji had been avoiding him like the plague since the weekend's escapade, so he was disregarded anyway. Chad looked slightly concerned but didn't say anything as Tatsuki talked quietly with her friend from a younger class, a cute-faced girl named Orihime. Countless people had told him she had a crush on Ichigo, but he barely spoke with her much less had an attraction to her.

All he could think about was blue eyes that held secrets and a grin that made his blood boil.

So when the bell rang for lunch, Ichigo had had enough.

He went straight to the school's rooftop.

He had never been up there before, but he couldn't take it anymore. He wanted an explanation, wanted a reason why the delinquent kept acting like nothing had happened…BUT NOTHING HAD HAPPENED!

Dammit, Ichigo was fucking losing it.

Ichigo mounted the steps, pushing open the metal door that led to the top landing of the roof and was immediately greeted with a very tall, lanky delinquent that was constantly covering one of his eyes with a bandana. Nnoitra Jiruga. An unlit cigarette was in his mouth as he stared down at the orange head, obviously surprised to see a vizard in claimed delinquent territory. His foot was still in the air, like he had been about to step down the stairwell before realizing an orange-haired kid was in his way.

He cocked his head to the side, his eye narrowing as he stared at Ichigo defiantly, "Wha' the fuck do you want?"

Ichigo glared back, "None of your damn business."

"That so?" Nnoitra pressed, leaning in the doorframe and effectively blocking Ichigo's path. He was grinding the cig between his big, clenched teeth, that one visible violet eye boring into him with the intent of intimidation. Ichigo's back stiffened as he stood straight, his eyes locked on the delinquent's. After his little run-in with the Soul Reapers that weekend he'd gained a little more confidence. And if he remembered correctly, Jiruga was being threatened with suspension if he was caught in a fight on school grounds one more time. Ichigo didn't understand why the spoon-like boy even bothered to go to school with how bad his grades were, but he obviously cared enough not to want to get kicked out.

"You wanna get out of my way?" Ichigo asked, tilting his head slightly, his brown eyes unflinching, "Lunch is only so long, Jiruga."

"Che," Nnoitra replied, putting his hands in his pockets and bumping hard into Ichigo's shoulder as he passed him going down the stairwell, "Whatever, faggot."

Ichigo slammed the door behind him, hoping the barrier would keep him from pursuing the stupid delinquent and getting into a brawl he wasn't sure he could win. He knew Nnoitra had a reputation for fighting and had a lot of physical strength despite his gangly appearance, but Ichigo was a fast and slippery little fucker that could probably take him on and put him in his place. A few people had called him a faggot before, even though nobody could discern his sexual preference due to his lack of interest in anybody that had ever approached him. Many had already labeled him as asexual and he had always been fine with that, but fuck the people that labeled him with a derogatory term and didn't know shit about him.

He turned and faced the rest of the rooftop, the wind blowing slightly, the sun hidden by a thicket of clouds. It didn't look like it would rain, but the temperature had dropped a bit from the previous days, allowing many students to turn to sweaters and hoodies. Two Goth boys talked quietly near a vent shaft smoking a joint, passing it back and forth as they debated the finer tastes of various metal bands and modern art. Ichigo recognized them as Shuhei and Ulquiorra, although he couldn't recall their last names at the moment. They were in the class below him, but he had taken art classes with them before due to the school's integration of age groups when it came to the art and athletic departments.

Ichigo walked farther along the rooftop, turning the corner and nearly running into a very pale, short girl with too much make up and a hideous ensemble of something twisted between a pixie and a ballerina. Her giant, black platform boots helped her with her heigh but her curly black pigtailed hair only brought her to about his pectorals. She had something balled in her fist, a little baggie with something white and powdery inside. She sniffed, shoving him out of the way, "Outta my way, fucker!"

Ichigo stared after her as she disappeared before continuing on his way, spotting Shirosaki Tengu, the delinquent most students referred to as the White Demon due to his albino complexion, white hair, and inverted black and gold eyes. Near him was Gin Ichimaru, and leaning against the rooftop's side railing was the blue-haired bastard that had saved his ass the weekend past.

Gathering his courage, Ichigo walked forward, hands in his pockets as he heard the White Demon cackle like a hyena, sending chills down Ichigo's spine.

"Oi, wha's up with 'tha berry head?" he catcalled, elbowing Gin in the side to get his attention. Gin had been counting a stack of yen bills before he looked over, stuffing the money discreetly into his jeans pocket.

Gin cocked his head to the side, his silver hair falling out of his slitted eyes as he smirked that toothless smile he was so well known for, "Ah, a strawberry outta season. It's almost winter, ne?"

Ichigo wanted to turn around and leave and forget he ever came up here. Dammit, not only had he faced the Spoon Pirate (it was Ichigo's personal nickname for the tight-assed bastard), but now he had to deal with the White Demon and the Silver Fox.

The White Demon was rumored to be the Espada's bloody hands. He was an absolute monster. He loved fighting more than he loved to breathe, and people avoided him like the plague. The only people that dared approach him were hopeless girls that were obsessed with his exotic looks and his vampire-like behavior and fellow gang members. He was ridiculously good-looking, but the black and gold eyes and sharp teeth made Ichigo uncomfortable, not to mention their facial structure was nearly identical. If they stood side by side, Ichigo feared they would look like estranged twins.

As for the Silver Fox, a nickname adopted by the student populace, he was just as feared and possibly just as deadly. He was called the fox not only because of his mysterious smirks and brains, but because he was incredibly sneaky and quiet. He knew everything about everything, and Ichigo knew that he was deep in the Espada trust circle even though he was only eighteen years old. He was obviously a part of the drug cartel, as that Gothic cheerleader girl had run off with what could only be blow. He was creepily mysterious, and there was nothing about the boy that Ichigo could even begin to trust.

However, he also seemed to be Grimmjow's closest friend. If not a friend, then at least the closest gang member. It was then that Grimmjow seemed to register Ichigo's existence, his blue eyes probing the berry and making him blush.

He cracked a grin without his gangbanger friends knowing, as their attention was fully on the berry. Ichigo continued to step forward, until he was only a few feet away from the trio, desperately searching his brain for what he was going to say.

"Ya here for some white monster?" Shirosaki grinned, showing his elongated teeth and pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it quickly, "Knew a tight-ass scholar like ya had 'ta have some kind of personal demon."

"Nah," Gin said, tilting his head again, the smirk traced on his lips as he regarded Ichigo, "He ain't inta' blow. Ya can practic'ly smell the innocence on 'im."

As if to make a point, Shirosaki made an exaggerated sniff along Ichigo's shoulder, making him flinch and take a step back. Shiro cackled again, blowing smoke into the berry's face, "Never too late 'ta get hooked on the white monster."

Ichigo had no idea what Shirosaki was referring to until he remembered Gin's reference to drugs. White monster must have been a slang term for cocaine, but it only made Ichigo think about the White Demon standing in front of him. Demon and monster were synonymous, after all.

"Well he ain't here fer us," Gin smiled, revealing his icy blue eyes in Grimmjow's direction, "is he, _Sexta_?"

Grimmjow's face was fighting a grin as he shoved his friend playfully in the shoulder, "Let it be, _Kitsune_. Probably wants to know why I scored higher than him on the exam."

Ichigo scowled while Shirosaki barked with laughter and Gin chuckled, his hands in his pockets as he began to sidle away, "Well then I'll leave 'ya two alone 'fer a quick minute, ne? Come on, Shi: lunch is almost over 'an I had my eye on tha' chocolate puddin'."

"See ya, Strawberry," Shirosaki hissed, laughing as he walked away with his friend.

When Ichigo looked at Grimmjow, he looked totally amused.

"What the fuck are you grinning for?" Ichigo grumbled, fisting his hands at his sides.

"Why ya so defensive?" Grimmjow retorted, raising a blue eyebrow and resuming his position on the fence, leaning lazily. Ichigo couldn't help but notice how his muscles grew taught in his long arms, how he could see the indentations of his fit chest through the black t-shirt. His jeans were ripped but clean, his usual shredded Converse covering his feet and his gang bandanna hanging out of his back pocket, nearly trailing halfway down his long legs. Ichigo always forgot how tall the fucker was when he got up close.

"I'm not defensive," Ichigo said lamely.

Grimmjow snorted, running a hand through his blue locks. They were always so messy, but it seemed to be his trademark look. Nobody could pull off that hair style, much less pull it off with gorgeous dark blue hair. DAMMIT ICHIGO, FOCUS.

"So what'd'ya want?" Grimmjow asked, his head cocked to the side, his eyes locked on Ichigo's. Ichigo gulped, squaring his shoulders.

"I wanna know…" Ichigo began, trailing off, "Fuck, I don't know! How come you've been ignoring me?"

Grimmjow snorted, "Ignoring you?"

"Y-you haven't been talking to me at all," Ichigo continued, realizing how lame he sounded but not caring. _He wanted an answer from Grimmjow, dammit!_ "You haven't said a damn word to me since the weekend. What the fuck's up with that?"

"Why ya so upset?"

"Shut up, I'm not," Ichigo defended, his arms now folded over his chest, "It's just…I couldn't even finish my test today I was so distracted! What the fuck, Grimmjow? Are we going to just keep ignoring each other at school or what?"

"Do ya want me to ignore you?"

"No," Ichigo huffed, averting his eyes, "but it fucking bugs me that you smile at me and not say anything. Seriously, it's fucking creepy."

"Really?" Grimmjow said huskily. Ichigo doubted he had meant it to sound that sexy, but to Ichigo's ears, it was making his dick twitch. _FUCK._

"I know you're this big bad ass gangbanger that can't be bothered with vizards, but I thought maybe…you know what? I don't even know why the fuck I'm talking to you anyway," Ichigo said, beginning to turn and walk away.

"Yo," Grimmjow called, never having moved from his spot, "You regrettin' I saved your ass in that alley?"

"What?" Ichigo turned, staring at Grimmjow.

"Cuz I wouldn't have helped ya if I didn't think you were worth saving," Grimmjow added, shrugging his shoulders, "it took guts to let yourself get jumped like that. Given different circumstances, I think ya could have kicked some ass. "

"Fuck you," Ichigo said, practically scowling. Wait a minute, hold the phone, "Wait, what?"

Grimmjow shook his head before stepping closer to the berry, hands in his pockets, "You're pretty cool for a vizard. If ya wanna talk, I'll talk. If ya want me to ignore you, then I can do that too. I don't go outta my way to be with people, but obviously ya wanna be friends. I think I can do that."

Ichigo looked around wildly, as if expecting half the student body to jump out and start laughing at him. That's all he needed was for this to all be a big joke. Coming up here had been on his mind all day; a chance to sort things out with Grimmjow, but why in the hell was he making it out to be so much more than it was? Did he want a friendship? Was that why he had an itch he couldn't scratch? That's what all his anxiety was about, because he wanted to actually carry on conversations with a delinquent?

"So, does this mean we're friends?" Ichigo said, sounding uncertain of his own words. It was almost as if Ichigo were testing out a hypothesis with the scientific formula for male-bonded relationships.

Grimmjow grinned, leaning his tall frame against a railing, "I don't know. Do ya even know how ta be friends with a delinquent?"

**XXX**

Ichigo took a deep breath, pushing the metal door to step out onto the rooftop. Grimmjow had challenged him to sit with them at lunch the next day. Ichigo had nearly jumped at the opportunity. What the hell was he getting himself into?

A few eyebrows were raised his way by a few of the other students, but they went back to sketching, eating, or reading as soon as he passed them. He turned the corner to go to the far east corner where he had found Grimmjow the day before, feeling anxious as he heard laughter from the group. Nnoitra was missing today, but that didn't mean he and Grimmjow would be alone. Gin was licking a spoon rather provocatively that had belonged to a pudding cup as Shirosaki laughed almost hysterically and Grimmjow's grin lit up the world.

Jesus, he had to stop staring at Grimmjow like that. It was wrong on so many levels. He didn't want the bluenette, he didn't want him. Okay, sure, he could admit he was attracted, but who wouldn't be?

Delinquent delinquent delinquent. A terrible person with a bad demeanor and a tendency to disrupt the peace. A sexy, mysterious person who makes your stomach clench and your head throb just thinking about their blue eyes or their ultra-white teeth that made the most drool-worthy grins imaginable.

_Stop it_, Ichigo ordered himself as he plopped down with the trio as if he had belonged with them since the beginning of the universe. Shirosaki looked almost stricken, while Gin simply tilted his head with that fox-like grin and Grimmjow grinned at him, "Didn' think ya'd come, Ichi."

"Well I'm here, aren't I, ass hole?" Ichigo retorted, throwing his weight around. Grimmjow had told him the easiest way to survive with his 'friends' was to talk shit; be bigger than you think you are. Be an ass hole and they'd welcome you with open arms. Well, he hadn't exactly said it like that, but Ichigo had been practicing in the mirror practically all night, hoping he was as mysterious and deadly as he thought he could be.

"Ya, you are," Shirosaki taunted, laughing as he finished rolling a joint that Ichigo hadn't noticed, "And I'm dyin' 'ta know why."

"Back off," Grimmjow said, slapping Shirosaki upside the head. It hadn't been nearly hard enough to hurt him because Shirosaki grinned at him with those long canines.

"Just messin' with him, Sexta," Shiro defended, licking the edge of his joint to finish it, "and wonderin' how come a vizard thinks he's tough shit sittin' with Espada."

"A little birdy told meh," Gin began blowing smoke out of his nostrils, his pale blue eyes actually revealed this time and making Ichigo's spine tingle, "that'cha stood 'yer ground against some Soul Reapers."

"You told them?" Ichigo demanded, angry. The last thing he needed was to be teased by a rival gang on how he had gotten the shit kicked out of him by a pineapple-headed gangbanger.

"I didn't say shit," Grimmjow said, staring at Gin in what was obvious admiration, "but this ass hole has his fingers in everything; nothing stays secret with this fucker."

"Tha's why 'ya keep meh around," Gin smirked, flicking his finished cigarette through the fence bordering the rooftop, "Anybody that stands their ground 'ta a bunch'a pussies like tha' Soul Reapers is worth my admiration. Anythin' ya need, anythin' at all, just lemme know, 'kay?"

Ichigo nodded, although he still wasn't very trustworthy of the shifty fox. There was just something about him that Ichigo couldn't allow himself to let his guard down. He had the feeling that this type of gangster would smile as he stabbed you.

But maybe Ichigo was getting ahead of himself. There he went again with the stereotypes. He had thought Grimmjow was nothing but a dirty delinquent, and he had saved his ass in an alley at two o'clock in the morning. And if Grimmjow trusted him…maybe Ichigo shouldn't dismiss his gesture of goodwill so quickly.

But the White Demon was another matter, "Fuck, yer a fighter, Strawberry?"

"No," Ichigo said, not one to lie unnecessarily, "but I have been trained in karate and judo. Fighting in the street is a little different than being in a dojo."

"Ya a black belt?" Shirosaki said, sounding genuinely interested, his eyes lit up like Christmas morning.

Ichigo shook his head no, popping a chip into his mouth as he carried on the conversation. He'd quit two belts short, but his legs and arms were still strong and he had good muscle memory. He'd wanted to be a black belt, but…life had just gotten in the way. School had taken priority over anything that had made him happy, and taking care of his family had also interfered. When money became an issue, he'd dropped it completely.

Somehow conversation began to flow easily, back and forth between the delinquents and the serious student when they all were alerted to the bell ringing to signal the end of lunch. It had gone so fast Ichigo found himself almost regretting it.

"Mah, time for chemistry," Gin sighed, standing up with his school bag and tilting his head, "Ne, looks like we'll be walkin' together."

Ichigo nodded, having forgotten that Gin and Grimmjow were both in his afternoon chemistry class. Nnoitra and Shiro had a less-advanced life science thankfully. Ichigo had gotten to know the White Demon a little better, but he was still pretty uncomfortable around the psycho.

**XXX**

Grimmjow went to the back of the room, settling in at his usual lab table, Gin taking the stool directly next to him. They had been lab partners since the beginning of the school year, as no other kids would even dare to sit with them. Everybody was beginning to pull out textbooks and notebooks while Yoruichi-sensei began taking beakers out of a side cabinet.

When the bell rang and everybody was seated, Grimmjow found himself staring at the back of an orange head. Ichigo sat rows ahead, sharing a lab table with a black-haired nerd with glasses and a tie. Uryu Ishida was also another student at the top of the class, although he was in another section of the senior grade and wasn't in most of their classes. Grimmjow knew him from his snide, all-knowing comments to the teacher and his name from the exam lists that were released by the teachers to show progress. Ishida Uryu, Hitsugaya Toshiro, and Kurosaki Ichigo were always in the top three brackets with Grimmjow falling somewhere in the forties. Out of over two hundred students, that was quite a fucking accomplishment. It only pissed him off that Gin managed to stay in the thirteenth spot without ever studying or seeming to give a damn in school. Grimmjow wondered if he was one of those teenage prodigies, but then maybe he paid the teachers off. He wouldn't put it past his best friend to be fucking the teachers or bribing them with trinkets or yen.

"Ne," Gin breathed, smirking at Grimmjow, "Ya sure ya know what 'yer doin' with the Strawberry?"

Grimmjow looked into his best friend's ice-colored eyes, knowing he was more curious than condescending, "What? Does everything have to be gang related? Do we gotta initiate him to talk to him?"

"Nah," Gin replied, leaning his head on a slim hand, "but I just remembered somethin'."

"What?"

His grin was playful, "That'cha've always had 'a thing 'fer orange."

**XXX**

"Alright, everybody," Yoruichi-sensei announced, adjusting her lab coat, "It's about time you kitties got assigned an actual lab project."

The thirty or so students all moaned and grumbled while Ichigo doodled aimlessly in his notebook. He was off in his own little world again, trying to filter in sensei's drabble while simultaneously drawing a fanged dragon.

"…this project will account for forty percent of your overall grade…"

_Giant claws. Ah, make the ears a bit more pronounced…_

"…you will be put into pairs. This will be a joint effort…"

_Make him breathe fire? Eh, let's finish up the scales a minute…_

"…but I will be assigning your partners in alphabetical order."

Ichigo snapped his head up, completely surprised. Yoruichi-sensei had always allowed group projects to be done by lab partners, i.e., the two kids that sat at the same lab table together were stuck together for the year's projects. He'd always been content to have Ishida for a partner. He could be a total prick, but he did excellent work and cared about his grades as much as Ichigo did.

"Alphabetical order?" one of the girls asked, her voice sounding nervous.

"Yes, I have the role call here and when I call your names, please arrange yourselves at the appropriate lab tables starting from the ones closest to the front. We'll work our way back as I call off the pairs. Everybody understand?"

More grumbling as Ichigo was still trying to process Yoruichi-sensei's new form of torture. Dammit, he knew whoever he was paired with was going to make him do all the work. Then again, if Ichigo ended up doing all the work, he was guaranteed a good grade…

"…and Hinamori Momo…"

Everybody was standing up at this point and beginning to move out of the way of the other students that were taking over the new lab tables. Ichigo gathered his notebook to his chest, hanging on sensei's every word:

"Hisagi Shuhei and Ichimaru Gin…"

Ichigo saw Gin smirk as he moved across the room and plopped down next to the Goth teen with the number tattooed on his face. A dark, misunderstood art lover and a delinquent drug-dealing gangster. Ichigo snorted just thinking about the odd combination.

"Jaegerjaques Grimmjow…"

Ichigo was still chuckling about the prospect of Shuhei and Gin working together when his ears were assaulted with Yoruichi's next words:

"…and Kurosaki Ichigo."

Ichigo heard his neck snap as he whipped it around to stare into teasing blue eyes. The room was silent as students watched the delinquent move towards the front of the room, his book bag slung over a shoulder, his grin wide as he stared at the blubbering berry.

Ichigo moved aside, taking a seat before his knees gave out and betrayed how rattled he was. _Oh shit, this cannot be happening._

"Yo," Grimmjow breathed, bumping shoulders with the stunned strawberry, "you regrettin' it yet?"

Ichigo said nothing as he slammed his head against the desk in denial.

**So…this was supposed to be one of those angsty dramas full of depression, but…it looks like its becoming quite fluffy and light-hearted…any complaints?**

**f.y.i: 'Tengu' is a type of demon in Japanese. Also, Gin means 'Silver', so I made his nickname 'Kitsune' which means 'fox', so that the little nicknames all work out and make sense. The list of progress in grades is real in Japanese schools, which I found interesting and also depressing. Everybody knowing everybody's business! And before you jump my shit about Grimmjow being 'dumber' than the others, hey, he can't have everything! He'd be absolutely perfect, and I don't believe in perfection. Also, being in the forties of over two hundred is still fucking amazing. As for Gin having the thirteenth spot…well, that's my favorite number and he's my favorite character! And last but not least, I cannot BELIEVE how beautifully everybody's names worked out in chronological order. I didn't have to manipulate that at all to make sure Grimm and Ichi ended up on the project together in 'chemistry' class. Meh, I wonder what kind of CHEMISTRY they'll be working on *wank wank :'D**

**PLEASE REVIEW! I'll be updating Bands & Berries very soon as well **


	4. Commisceo

**-Tell Me Tomorrow-**

_'Everybody hates me,_

_Everybody wanna fight_

_We can't stand to wake up in the sun,_

_But can't sleep in the moonlight.'_

**-Chapter Four: Commisceo-**

The weekend was upon them once again, and Ichigo threw himself into his homework and studying for his calculus exam. He had been staring at the same equation for nearly fifteen minutes before he slammed the textbook shut, his eyes trailing to the slightly crinkled piece of notebook paper that held seven numerals. Grimmjow had written it down and given it to him on Friday after Yoruichi-sensei had demanded the new partners exchange numbers. She also explained that a majority of the project would have to be done outside of class, which had made Ichigo and Grimmjow stare at each other like they were completely lost.

"Dammit," Ichigo grumbled, pulling out his cell phone and plugging in the numbers. He listened to it ring, not knowing what the hell had possessed him. Right when he thought it would go to voicemail, the line picked up.

"What?" Grimmjow answered, his voice thick with sleep. This absolutely baffled Ichigo, as it was nearly nine p.m.

"H-hey Grimm, it's, ah, Ichigo. Uh, sorry for waking you up…"

Grimmjow chuckled deep and low, making Ichigo's throat tighten, "It's Grimm now?"

"Well you called me Ichi at school," Ichigo defended, his face on fire.

"Yeah, I did," Grimmjow yawned, "So what is it? Miss me already?"

"Fuck you."

"But we just met."

Ichigo could feel the heat in his ears and neck as Grimmjow laughed, "I'm just fuckin' with ya. You got no sense of humor."

"Ass hole," Ichigo mumbled, "I called because we need to decide on our project. I thought up a few ideas and wrote down some hypotheses…"

"Let's go," Grimmjow grunted.

"Wha?"

"Let's go out. Just hearing you talk about school on the weekend is giving me heat rash."

"I want us to have a project idea decided by Monday. Yoruichi-sensei said…"

"Meet me at Seretei in an hour. You do know where that is, right?"

"Are you even listening to me?" Ichigo demanded, trying to calm his heart.

"All I hear is a kid that needs to work out some frustration. If it makes you feel better, we can decide something at the club. Besides, friends usually hang out with friends on the weekends, ne?"

"I can't. I have a calculus exam and I have to memorize six different systems for anatomy, and…"

"I'll see ya in an hour."

Ichigo stared at his phone, listening to the dial tone for nearly thirty seconds before he closed it, staring at his unfinished homework.

Three minutes later he was in the shower.

**XXX**

Grimmjow wouldn't be surprised if the berry head didn't show up. He was dressed casual, as he still hadn't had an opportunity to go back to the apartment and grab more clothes. A simple white v-neck shirt, clean black jeans and his shredded dark blue Converse were all he needed to survive in life. He sat at the secluded booth with Gin and Nnoitra, cradling a rum and coke.

"Why the fuck did ya invite that little punk?" Nnoitra spat, taking another shot of tequila.

"Because the punk needs to get out more," Grimmjow said, completely unconcerned with his fellow gang member. Nnoitra hadn't been sitting with them at lunch lately, sneaking off to shag most of the time, so he hadn't had a chance to commune with Ichigo like the others. Grimmjow wondered how comfortable Ichigo was becoming with his friends who had a reputation that preceded them like a delinquent red carpet. Hopefully tonight would make Nnoitra a little less aggressive when it came to the vizard. Grimmjow could understand his frustration: they didn't associate with vizards, period, unless they were fucking them. It was just the way things were.

And Grimmjow had punched Nnoitra hard enough in the gut when he had inquired as to whether Grimmjow was fucking the strawberry for entertainment purposes that he probably deserved Nnoitra's childlike tantrum.

Gin smiled his classic close-mouthed smile, a cigarette tucked neatly behind his ear as he sipped at his beer, "Ne, chill Nnoi. He's not half bad fer a vizard."

"Didja grow pussies when I wasn't payin' attention?" Nnoitra replied, his good eye looking at Grimmjow like he was staring at a monster, "He's just a buster. Bet he doesn't even have the balls to show up here."

"I have balls," a familiar voice announced next to the table, "You can suck 'em if you want."

Gin chuckled while Nnoitra looked royally pissed off. Shirosaki, who had been relatively quiet so far that night, released his hyena-like laugh and punched Nnoitra playfully in the shoulder, "Oi, make room for the buster, Nnoi."

Grimmjow flicked his eyes quickly over Ichigo, noting the snug fit of his vintage red tee, unzipped white hoodie, and washed out gray jeans. He couldn't see his feet, but he imagined comfy sneakers. He decided the kid didn't look half bad: he was such a brain at school he had been counting on him showing up with slacks and a tie, maybe even a pocket protector.

Nnoitra almost hissed as he stood up to his full height, staring down at the berry with the most intimidating face he could manage. Grimmjow would have liked to think he was surprised to see the berry stand his ground, but he wasn't. Ichigo's gaze never wavered from the skinny tall bandana-wielding gangster, and Grimmjow knew Nnoitra secretly respected the punk for it.

"Che, fuck this. I'm outta here," he said, bumping Ichigo's shoulder roughly as he moved towards the packed dance floor, "I fuck pussy, I don't sit and _chat_ with it."

"He likes ya," Gin said, raising his voice to be heard over the thundering music while Shirosaki giggled with new laughter, "if he's treatin' ya like shit, yer doin' somethin' right."

"Why do you hang out with that prick?" Ichigo said, flopping down into Nnoitra's abandoned spot at the booth, "What's he got shoved up his ass to be treating strangers like that?"

Grimmjow smirked, pushing an untouched beer in the berry's direction, "Don't take it personally. Deep down, he's a real sweetheart."

Everybody laughed at that as Ichigo took a tentative sip of the frothy beer. He drank occasionally, and he was actually in the mood for a few drinks tonight. He needed to mellow out, unwind. He was still a little miffed about the stunt Grimmjow had pulled over the phone, but honestly, he had to agree with Grimmjow on some level. All work and no play made even the most aggressive workaholics burn out. He deserved a little break once in a while; the homework would still be there when he got home later, wouldn't it? Besides, he had a short shift the next morning for work, giving him plenty of time to finish up his studying before school Monday.

Gin suddenly lifted up one of his pale hands, palm up, beckoning towards Shirosaki with two fingers simultaneously, "Looks like 'ya lost, Tengu."

Shirosaki simply smirked before pulling a large yen bill from his pocket and forking it over to Gin.

Grimmjow shook his head disbelievingly, "Ya still haven't learned your lesson yet? Since when has Gin ever lost a bet?"

Gin simply chuckled as he held the bill up and waved it slightly, immediately drawing the attention of a wandering hostess, "A round a beers 'fer tha' table, sweetie, and keep 'em comin'."

"Sure thing," she said, smiling as she took the bill and weaved through the crowd back towards the overrun bar. It was complete chaos in here, and Ichigo had to admit there was a kind of beauty in the disorder.

"So what? You took bets on me?" Ichigo mumbled, finishing the beer Grimmjow had given him before scowling at Gin.

Gin opened one pale blue eye, still smirking, "A'course we did. Nnoi and Shi said there was no way ya'd show yer face here, but I had faith in 'ya."

Ichigo decided it wasn't worth being annoyed over. Gin's explanation was good enough for him. To be honest, he probably never would have set foot in this place due to its rough reputation if Grimmjow hadn't invited him. In fact, Ichigo had a hard time believing he wouldn't go just about anywhere Grimmjow told him to, and that scared him. He didn't even know the blue-haired delinquent that well yet, and yet something about his spirit, his personality, made Ichigo gravitate towards him.

They continued to chat, mostly about Seretei itself and the people in it. Ikkaku was spinning tracks again, and Ichigo was surprised to realize that he knew him from the record shop near Urahara Shoten that he frequented on his breaks. Nnoitra eventually came back, a very short drunk girl hanging on his arm, her short black hair framing her face, her body small and lithe, her chest as flat as a table.

"She ain't got no tits," Shirosaki said loudly after finishing his ninth or tenth beer, "Nnoi, what's our motto? If it ain't got no paddin', it ain't worth shaggin'."

"Fuck you," the girl spat, saluting him with her middle finger before pulling Nnoitra back towards the dance floor. He looked slightly agitated and shot Ichigo another glare before following after her again.

"Mah mah," Gin breathed, exhaling a stream of pot smoke from his nostrils, "Should I stop tha' before it becomes an issue?"

Grimmjow's eyes narrowed in the direction of where Nnoitra had disappeared with the drunk strumpet, making Ichigo wonder what the hell was going on, "That dumb fuck. You think he's doing it on purpose?"

"Ya ferget how dense he can be," Gin said, getting up from the booth slowly, sighing, "Prob'ly don't recognize her. It's been ages."

"Don't make a scene," Grimmjow replied, his eyes falling on the silver fox.

Gin simply grinned, "Ne? Me? 'Ya know I'm always discreet."

Ichigo was thoroughly confused as he watched Gin disappear in the crowd, only able to follow him due to his height and his silver hair being a beacon in the strobe lights. He was easily 6 feet tall, maybe an inch more. The only people taller than him that Ichigo had seen were Grimmjow and Nnoitra, but Nnoitra was practically a freak of nature with his frame falling somewhere in the seven feet range.

"What the hell was that all about?" Ichigo asked, finishing his third beer. He hadn't even been here an hour and he was already buzzed.

"Old business," Grimmjow mumbled, his eyes still running around the dance floor, trying to locate where his friends had disappeared to, "that chick belongs to a Soul Reaper."

"Is she a Soul Reaper?"

"Hell no. She's just associated with them. A sister," Grimmjow said, lighting a cigarette he had stolen from Gin, "Don't need to start any unnecessary controversies over that little twit. When it comes to his dick, Nnoitra doesn't discriminate."

"Fuck," Nnoitra said several minutes later, pulling up a chair to the table after threatening another kid to give it to him, "Way 'ta fuckin' cock block me, ass hole."

"Now now, Nnoi-Nnoi," Gin said, sliding back into the booth next to Grimmjow where he had been the entire night. He wagged his finger at Nnoitra, his face almost serious, his eyes hidden, "Rukia Kuchiki is definitely not a good enough fuck ta' risk a throw down with the Reaps."

Nnoitra just looked agitated as he stole Grimmjow's beer, shot-gunning it as Grimmjow puffed at his cigarette, seemingly oblivious to the drama, "Wha the fuck? Is there anybody ya haven't fucked, Gin?"

Gin wrinkled his nose, the smirk completely erased from his face, "I'd never touch that anorexic chit. Ya know me better than tha', Nnoi-Nnoi. It's just wha' I've heard through the grape vine, ya know? She's not exactly known 'ta be a nun."

"None are any of these other skanks," Nnoitra threatened darkly, snatching one of Gin's untouched joints from the table and sticking it behind his ear, "Is a nice, tight ass too much to ask for these days?"

Shirosaki was incoherent as he laughed, having drunk more than all of them. Hearing Shirosaki laugh made Ichigo laugh, and he realized belatedly that he was tipsy and quite possibly contact high. His eyes flickered between Gin's lit joint in his hand and the other untouched joint on the table.

"Ya want some?" Gin offered, noticing Ichigo's nervous behavior, "This ain't 'tha dime bag shit yer used to."

"Nah, that's okay."

Nnoitra removed the joint he had taken from behind his ear and lit it, blowing the smoke in Ichigo's face, "Yer too good fer the green, huh? 'Fraid you'll fry all those pretty lil' brain cells in that vizard head a 'yers?"

"He doesn't smoke," Grimmjow offered, looking at Nnoitra in an annoyed way, "Don't corrupt the kid. If he doesn't want it, he doesn't want it."

"Actually, I've never tried it," Ichigo admitted, continuing to stare at the untouched joint. Tentatively, he picked it up, studying it as Shirosaki giggled and Gin smiled.

"Ya wanna?" Gin asked again, holding out a metal silver lighter and flicking it open for him.

Ichigo couldn't resist. Fuck it, how could he be eighteen years old and never even tried weed? He had smelled it before and a few of his friends smoked it on a weekly basis, but he'd always stayed clear of it, along with anything else that might even be slightly illegal. What the hell had gotten into him? A couple weeks ago he never would have even considered this offer, but now here he was, holding the joint out and allowing Gin to light it for him.

Ichigo put it to his lips, took a fairly long drag and held on, keeping it bottled up inside before releasing the smoke out of his mouth, "That's it?"

The table burst into laughter, even Grimmjow was laughing as they watched Ichigo begin to suck on the joint harder and longer.

Nnoitra cackled, "Wha'd'ja expect 'ta happen? A rainbow 'ta shoot out 'yer ass?"

Ichigo shrugged, "I dunno. I just always thought if it was illegal, it had to be a big deal. This is just…ridiculously simple. An herbal psycho-depressant that tears and deteriorates brain cells and stresses the neurons. Marijuana damages short term memory; it alters the way in which information is processed by the hippocampus, a brain area responsible for memory formation and…"

"Jesus, this kid is a freak," Nnoitra snorted, leaning back in his chair and enjoying another beer, "Ya sure know how 'ta pick 'em, Grimm."

"Shut the fuck up," Ichigo retorted, his head starting to feel funny. Wow, this stuff worked a lot faster than he had thought. Gin hadn't been kidding: this was strong shit.

"Let the doctor be smart," Shirosaki commented, getting up from the booth and eyeing the dance floor, "Now if ya boys will excuse me, it's time 'fer a little lovin'."

"Alone?" Grimmjow cajoled, making the table erupt in laughter as Shirosaki flipped him the bird with a manic grin before he disappeared on the dance floor.

Ichigo finished the joint several minutes later, feeling extremely good and lethargic. He leaned back, realizing how good the music was and getting into the beats. Ikkaku was a mixing god, and Ichigo suddenly had the itching urge to get on the dance floor.

So he did just that. He got up from the table, waving once at the boys before crashing through the crowd, bumping against plenty of women and men alike as he fought to the core of the gyrating amoeba. Cypress Hill's 'Rap Superstar' began scratching over the system, mixed with another set of beats he couldn't recognize. Everybody was throwing their hands up in the air as Ichigo began to lose himself to the music, realizing that the boys had spread out in the crowd. Shirosaki flipped him off, laughing as he danced between two girls. Nnoitra was nowhere to be seen, but Ichigo's reeling brain saw the glint of silver hair and saw the smirk of Gin as he ground sensually against a red-headed woman with a tight skirt and big tits.

Ichigo was suddenly assaulted by a girl's warm, firm ass pressing against his groin. The girl continued to dance against him, her short leather skirt leaving little to the imagination. She was cute, and for a second Ichigo wished that he was even slightly attracted to her. He wasn't getting aroused at all. It was slightly depressing.

Then he saw Grimmjow weaving through the crowd, the strobe lights going insane and temporarily blinding Ichigo as his fogged mind made sense of the noise and movement around him. The girl was still against him and he stepped back, bumping into more dancers who paid him no mind. The blue hair came into focus again and he stared, slack-jawed at Grimmjow across the dance floor as his eyes locked on Ichigo's chocolate brown ones. He sliced forward, grabbing the girl by the elbow and saying something into her ear before she started stumbling away, her hair flying as she jumped into another group of dancers.

Grimmjow drew closer to him, nearly screaming in his ear, "You looked really fuckin' uncomfortable. These E chicks are fuckin' insane. Let's bounce."

Ichigo just nodded dumbly, following Grimmjow off of the dance floor and down another hallway full of dopers and wallflowers. Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief as a metal door was opened and they spilled out into what looked like a back alley. He breathed in the fresh air, allowing his muddled slightly drunk and high mind to adjust.

"What the fuck is an E chick?" Ichigo asked lamely, unsure.

"E? Ecstasy," Grimmjow said, sliding a cigarette out of his pocket, "a pill. Gives you a lot of energy and makes you horny as fuck."

"Oh," Ichigo replied dumbly, deciding that it was like Viagra for women. He spun around, staring at all the brick walls that were covered in colorful graffiti, lit by a few pole lights.

"Wow," Ichigo breathed, running his palm over a giant mural of drippy-looking planets and stars done in bright neon colors. Names were distributed throughout, along with some symbols he didn't recognize and even a man smoking a cigar on the moon, "This _is sick._"

Grimmjow had lit another cigarette, scuffing his shoe against the gravel as he looked at Ichigo with a grin, "You sound high as fuck right now."

"Screw you," Ichigo flashed him the bird and turned back towards the art work, "This, this is real shit right here. This is what's real, Grimm."

Grimmjow flicked his cigarette, wandering up towards the wall Ichigo was so fascinated with, "Real?"

Ichigo nodded, "Look at it. Somebody fucking loved this, man. Breathed life into this fucking blank wall. Made it something. Look at it!"

"No more pot for you."

"Come on," Ichigo said, grabbing Grimmjow's wrist and pressing his palm against the spray-painted wall, "Feel it. Don't you get it? Somebody _made_ this, brought this into existence. Do you have any idea how amazing that is? To create something? Have it breathe? I'd give anything to make art like this, man. Anything, and I never will, because I have to learn about aortas and muscles and how to hold a scalpel."

Grimmjow stared down at Ichigo. He was several inches shorter than him, and even though he knew the kid had been drinking and was high for the first time in his life, he had to give the kid credit for being so coherent, "You don't want to be a doctor?"

Ichigo moved farther down the wall, staring particularly at the red and blue swirls, "I've _never_ wanted to be a doctor. My dad's always telling me to do what I want, to go for it, be an artist, whatever. But I can't. He knows I can't. They all know I can't, and it pisses me off."

"If you don't want to be a doctor, then don't," Grimmjow said, not understanding where this was going. He knew Ichigo was brilliant; he had to be, if he was in the top percentile of their class. That was no easy feat in a public school system.

"My family owns a clinic," Ichigo began, sliding down the wall to sit on the cold pavement, "My mom and dad started it twenty years ago. Both of them were doctors. But when she died…things started to fall apart. My dad was determined to run the clinic by himself, but…I always thought I'd be there to help him. I have to help him. I have to be a doctor, so I can save the clinic. My dad can't do it all on his own. Even with me helping him when I can with minor injuries and physicals, it's not enough. There's never enough money, never enough time. I have to take her place. I don't have a choice."

Grimmjow stared down at him, feeling slightly uncomfortable. That was a lot of shit Ichigo had just unloaded on him, and he didn't know exactly how to react. Something in his gut was nagging him, making him feel sympathetic. He scratched at his hair, flicking the butt of his cigarette off to the side before putting his hands in his pockets, "That's a load of bullshit, Ichigo."

Ichigo snapped his head up, "Wha?"

Grimmjow sighed, looking down the side of the alley before looking back at Ichigo, "You think for even one second your mom would have wanted you to be this miserable? You think her death will be justified if you make good grades and get into med school? Get a scholarship and start slicing people open and saving lives? Yah, if you wanted it bad enough, maybe it'd be worth it, but you don't. You don't want it, and you don't need it. There's gotta be another way to help your family; your dad's probably just being a stubborn ass. He doesn't want outside help, convinced he can fix the problem, and you're feeding right into that lie."

"Shut up," Ichigo murmured, "It's not a lie. It's what I've got to do."

Grimmjow sat down next to the berry, not too far, but not too close. He didn't like people invading his personal bubble, "How about I make you a deal?"

"Wha?"

"If you promise me you'll apply to art school," Grimmjow said, staring right into his eyes, "I'll apply to med school."

Ichigo snorted, punching him softly in the shoulder, still deliriously high, "You're too fucking funny. That was a good one, Grimm."

Grimmjow cocked his head to the side, his voice sounding dangerous, "What? You think I can't make it?"

"Nah," Ichigo said, shaking his head side to side, "That's not it."

"Then what?" Grimmjow growled, "You think I don't have any plans for myself? That a gangbanger can't make it to college?"

"That's not what I _meant_," Ichigo said, fussing with Grimmjow's hair and making him scowl and pull back. Nobody had played with his hair since he was a kid, except for Nel who would occasionally tug on his hair for fun. He felt goose bumps run down his spine as he pulled away, practically hissing.

Ichigo continued, "What kind of a deal is that? What are you saying? _You_ wanna be a doctor?"

"Maybe," Grimmjow huffed out, already wanting another cigarette. Being touchy-feely was too fucking difficult, "Why the fuck not? My grades have always been high in science and anatomy, and the last thing that would make me feel sick is blood. Not to mention I'm pretty fucking good with knives."

Ichigo snorted then started laughing, which made Grimmjow smile stupidly, "Doctor Jaegerjaques. It's got a nice ring to it."

"Damn straight," Grimmjow said, getting up and leaning against the wall, "Maybe not right away, but I'm looking into it. I can train to be a nurse practitioner first. I'll have to do it in steps; I can't afford it all at once, even with the scholarships. When I'm done, maybe your dad could hire me. I don't think I'll ever leave Karakura, at least not until Nel is older and ready for another big change."

"Huh? Who's Nel?" Ichigo said, sliding up the wall to lean alongside Grimmjow.

Grimmjow mentally chastised himself. God damn it, why was it so easy to talk to the berry head? He hadn't even told Gin that he had plans to work in the medical field. He knew it would make them all laugh. In a way, he kind of thought it comical himself. Grimmjow had the physique and demeanor of a bad ass; he didn't exactly scream doctor material, especially with his temper and tatted arms and neck.

"My baby sister," he finally grumbled, shifting to his other leg and effectively closing the subject by approaching the steel door and shoving it open, "Now I think that's enough vagina time for one night. Let's bleed same time next month, yeah?"

**XXX**

It was a new routine for Ichigo; he actually looked forward to his classes with Grimmjow and he continued to sit with them on the roof for lunch. Nnoitra had finally graced them with his presence, although usually everything that came out of his mouth was something snarky, but Ichigo always had a retort.

Everybody else seemed to become a nuisance. Keigo whined at him constantly, wanting a good reason as to why he didn't sit with them at lunch any more, demanded to know why he was suddenly talking to the dirty delinquents of the school. Even Chad voiced his opinion about being careful, but Ichigo dismissed them as easily as swatting a fly. His friendships had always been superficial, but there was something about his connection with Grimmjow that made him forget everything else.

He was kind of embarrassed about the little heart-to-heart they had had at Seretei over a week ago, and they had never talked about it again, but it was still in his mind that Grimmjow might be right. Ichigo had never clicked with someone so easily before, and it took somebody from the complete opposite side of the tracks to make him realize that he didn't have to float through life completely alone. He could have secrets, confidences, even loyalty to other people. The funniest thing was that Ichigo felt safe in the company of the gangbangers. Maybe it was because this was the first time in Ichigo's life he was allowing his guard down a little bit, not allowing himself to overanalyze and over think everything that came out of his mouth. He still cared about his grades and studied and did his homework, but it was nice to have a little time to himself every day to either play some video games or read an art magazine. It hadn't been awkward when Ichigo had invited Grimmjow over to work on the project, both of them settling down at the dining room table to work out some chemical theories and prepare a hypothesis about the reaction of the two chemicals they had picked.

They'd been so studious, in fact, they had lost track of time and Grimmjow had been introduced to Ichigo's dad when he had come home later that night with groceries for hot pot. Isshin had practically begged Grimmjow to stay for dinner, and Grimmjow had consented, although Ichigo had noticed how uncomfortable he looked at the table, a spread of food out before him while Yuzu babbled about school, food dripping down her chin and spreading on the table. Ichigo always sat at her side, wiping her mouth up with a napkin and helping her cut her food into bite size portions. He felt extremely self-conscious, almost ashamed as he realized Grimmjow had probably never met someone with down syndrome. The twins were in middle school, but Yuzu was in a special learning program; she had the body of a girl in puberty but the mind on the level of a four or five year-old, not to mention she was born a paraplegic and restricted to a wheel chair. Ichigo could feel the heat in his face as he helped Yuzu with her apple sauce, not getting mad when she drooled half of it back onto her plate and demanded chocolate pudding. Isshin had thrown in a couple of lame jokes while Karin drilled holes through Grimmjow's skull. It was rare for her to talk anyway, but Ichigo wanted to kick her under the table for being so rude.

It was later, after having cleaned up the dishes, that Ichigo realized how hard he had fallen for Grimmjow.

He had just finished wiping up the last dish, listening to his dad laugh at whatever was playing on the living room t.v. He left Karin to do her math homework, her head bent studiously as her pencil flew over the paper. That was one thing Ichigo could be thankful for: although she was an absolute terror to other kids and barely spoke, she was incredibly smart and barely ever needed help from her older brother. She was already in advanced classes. It made him proud.

He walked out to the living room, realizing his dad was lounging on the couch alone, his tie hung loosely around his neck, the stubble threatening to grow into a bush on his face, "Where's Yuzu?"

"In her playroom," Isshin answered, still laughing about whatever the middle-aged guy on t.v. had said or done, "Where's Blue? Still in the kitchen?"

"No," Ichigo mumbled, his brow furrowed as he headed towards his sister's room. Grimmjow had helped him clear the table, had offered to help him wash dishes, but Ichigo had refused. After all, he had wanted to be a good host, and a host never allowed a guest to do clean up work. He had told Grimmjow he could relax on the couch, watch t.v. and relax with his crazy father until he was done. Obviously Grimmjow had either left without saying anything or had gone off to explore the rest of the house.

All of their bedrooms were located on the second floor except for Yuzu's due to her mobility issues, so his father had converted the den into a rather large bedroom/playroom combination for her. He decided to check on her before checking his room. Maybe Grimm had wandered up there and was rifling through his games and cds or something.

Yuzu's door was open, light spilling out as he approached it, about to call out to her when he heard Grimmjow's voice:

"Of course I want cookies with my tea."

Yuzu giggled as Ichigo listened to her clink around with her plastic tea set he had given to her last Christmas, "More cookies?"

"You can never have too many cookies," Grimmjow said seriously, making Ichigo smile like an idiot. He slowly moved himself so that he could see into the room without giving himself away, still in the darkened hallway.

Ichigo thought his heart would melt all over the floor. Grimmjow was seated on a small plastic pink chair at the raised pink tea table Isshin had built for her to accommodate the wheel chair. Yuzu sat close to Grimmjow, her fingers moving over the plastic fake cookies and the plastic sugar spoon that belonged to the pastel pink tea set.

Ichigo's throat constricted as he listened to Yuzu chat with him, her speech fluttery like a little girl who completely believed in the fantasy of the tea set, that it was real, that there was actual tea to drink in those little cups covered in hearts.

And Grimmjow didn't look bored, or disgusted, or anything like what Ichigo would imagine a teenage boy would look like when confronted with such an environment. He looked…peaceful.

"I like you," Yuzu said, her voice high-pitched, "You…good…with Ichi."

Ichigo snapped his head back into the hallway, pressed against the wall, his heart beating erratically as he listened.

"You think so?" Grimm replied.

"Yeah yeah," Yuzu sing-songed, clinking on more cups, "I like…when…Ichi-nii smiles. He…never does. I think…you…make him…happy."

Ichigo put a hand over his mouth, snapping his eyes shut. He tried to breathe slowly, his heart nearly beating out of his chest. _Yuzu…_

"You love your brother," Grimmjow said, probably setting the plastic cup on the table due to the small rattle sound.

"Yes, he take care of me. Sometimes…I think…he's too sad. Grimmy-jow makes…him, um…smile a lot."

"Yeah?"

"Yes!"

Grimmjow chuckled, "I'm glad he takes care of you. You're a good kid."

"Yes!"

Grimmjow laughed again, which made Ichigo's fingers shake. He slowly removed his hand from in front of his mouth and pressed it against his chest, pulling on his t-shirt. It took him another minute to pull himself together before he walked into the room, smiling big at Yuzu, "Hey, Yuz, entertaining again?"

She nodded enthusiastically and smiled wide, holding up a plastic teacup, "Yes! Grimmy-jow, he, um, he play with me!"

"That's great," Ichigo said, ruffling her hair, "But you know what time it is?"

Her face fell, pouting, "Nnnah! Ichi-niiii, I don't wanna go to bed! Grimmy-jow stay?"

"We can play again some other time," Grimmjow said, standing up out of the chair, his hands in his pockets like he had just realized he'd been sitting in a pink chair, "You'd better listen to your brother, kid. Don't make him sad."

"Mmm," she said, as if she were thinking hard, then she looked at Ichigo with a pout, "Okay, Ichi. Okay."

**XXX**

Ichigo closed Yuzu's door softly. Karin had come in to change her into her pink Chappy bunny pajamas, considering Ichigo didn't feel comfortable changing his nearly teenage sister like he used to do for her when she was much younger. After watching her in the bathroom to make sure she brushed her teeth and washed up her face, he picked her up out of her small pink wheelchair and hefted her into her bed, tucking her in and making sure she was comfortable.

"Ichi-nii," Yuzu whispered, hugging a stuffed golden lion Ichigo had given her a while ago. He had actually received it from his father after his mother had asked him to get it for Ichigo while she was staying in the hospital weeks before her death. It was the last thing Ichigo had been given by her, but Yuzu had had such an attachment to it that he couldn't bare to keep it away from her. He'd finally given in and given it to her, knowing that remembering his mother was more important than a stuffed animal.

"Yes, Jitterbug?" Ichigo said affectionately, using her nickname. When Yuzu got worked up and started talking a mile a minute, her fingers would twitch and her voice would get all high and floaty, and she'd stutter her words in excitement, and the name had stuck.

"You like Grimmy-jow."

Ichigo stiffened; Yuzu hadn't said it like a question, like she usually talked. It was a definite statement of fact, and it threw Ichigo off. This was the first day Yuzu had ever been exposed to Grimmjow, and she had picked up on his feelings over dinner and tea time with the blue-haired delinquent?

"Um, yeah. He's my friend," Ichigo covered, smoothing her hair back away from her face, "Time to dream, Jitterbug. Nighty-night."

"I like…tha you like him," she murmured as Ichigo made his way towards the door, "you okay…with him, I think. He good, like you."

"Night, Jitterbug."

**XXX**

"Sorry about all that," Ichigo mumbled, running a hand along the back of his neck as he walked with Grimmjow down the sidestreet. Grimmjow had insisted that he would get home just fine on his own, that it wasn't even that late, but Ichigo had been stubborn and said he'd at least walk him halfway.

"What're you sorry for?" Grimmjow replied, his hands in his pockets. Ichigo couldn't help but notice the colorful tattoo work that disappeared beneath the baby blue long-sleeved t-shirt that had been bunched at his elbows. His eyes ran over the Spanish phrase written in jagged penmanship on the left side of his neck, wondering what it meant.

He looked away, "You could've been a complete ass to my family. You could have ignored Yuzu like everybody else does. But you didn't."

"So are you apologizing to me or thanking me?" Grimmjow said, offering Ichigo a grin.

Ichigo sighed, "Thanks."

"No problem," Grimmjow smirked, hands in his pockets as he continued to walk uninterrupted alongside the vizard, "I got a little sister too, ya know."

"Nel, right?"

"Yeah."

Thunder crashed in the distance, making the boys look up at the dark sky. Would it rain? Would the rain wash them both away forever, take away their shitty lives? Would the sun come out and shine on their little sisters who deserved all the happiness and affection they could possibly handle in their lives?

Ichigo couldn't help but notice the way Grimmjow's eyes seemed to light up at the mention of the little girl, his face content, "She's my whole world. I'd do anything for that kid."

Ichigo felt his chest tighten again, "How old?"

"Six," Grimmjow sighed, "going on twenty-six. She's had to grow up so fast."

"Don't we all?"

Grimmjow nodded, smirking again, "So you got it all figured out, huh?"

"Not all of it," Ichigo grinned back, kicking a can out of the way. The thunder was nearly deafening this time as a water droplet smacked against his forehead, then his arm. He looked up at the black night again as Grimmjow stopped as well to stare.

"Shitty weather," Grimmjow offered, continuing to walk. Ichigo picked up his pace to keep up with him. What was he doing? What were they doing? What was all of this?

"You mind telling me something?" Ichigo asked, not looking at Grimmjow as he walked beside him.

"Depends," Grimmjow shrugged, the pace back to normal. The rain was coming in sprinkles now, not nearly torrential, but enough to irritate, "what's on your mind?"

"Why are you my friend?" Ichigo asked honestly, his brow furrowed. The question had been plaguing him for days. His hands were in his hoodie pockets now, the rain not messing around anymore. Why weren't they running to cover? Why not stop under an awning and get out of the rain? The streetlights were becoming farther and farther apart, the rain becoming colder and colder as it began to soak through his layers.

Grimmjow snorted, "Why is anybody ever anybody's friend? Because I wanna be. Isn't that good enough?"

Ichigo stared at him through his bangs, his hair now thoroughly drenched. Grimmjow moved his hair out of his face, pushing it back off of his forehead, his blue eyes focused and intense. Ichigo could see his dark nipples through the soaking white shirt, the shirt molding to his body as it continued to rain. Water was running down the planes of his face, his neck, his lips looking full and beautiful and perfect.

_Stop it. Just STOP._

"I don't know," Ichigo admitted, looking at his shoes as he stopped on the sidewalk. Grimmjow stopped as well, seemingly not bothered by the pouring rain, "I don't know what to think about anything anymore."

"_Everybody hates me_," Grimmjow stated, looking at Ichigo with a lopsided grin, "_Everybody wanna fight. We can't stand to wake up in the sun, but can't sleep in the moonlight. I'm right there wit'ya, I'm sicker than my own skin, I got the clothes and the jaded grin."_

Ichigo realized he was reciting a song. Surprisingly, Ichigo recognized it. He usually was averse to rap, but occasionally he fell across an artist that turned his art into poetry. Ichigo answered him, continuing the song:

_"I'm at the bar or the coffee shop_

_But I don't like drinkin'_

_And I fuckin' hate coffee shops."_

Grimmjow grinned almost viciously, skipping a few verses to one of Ichigo's favorite parts, making fire rush through his veins:

_"I can never be what I wanna be_

_Nothin' but a man_

_Nothin's even inside of me_

_Nothin I can understand."_

Ichigo stopped again, touching Grimmjow's shirt collar, his fingers on fire from where his skin brushed against burning skin, "What does that mean?"

Grimmjow smiled, "What? The song or the tattoo?"

"All of it," Ichigo murmured, the rain still falling.

"Tell me what you're thinkin' and I might tell ya," Grimmjow taunted, walking backwards away from Ichigo and making him stumble forward.

"Tell me what that fucking grin means…tell me why I can't get you out of my head!" Ichigo shouted back.

_A month. It only took a month. And here we are, in the pouring rain, none of it making any sense. No sense at all..._

Grimmjow cocked his head to the side, cerulean eyes laughing.

"_Mi cielo y mi vida_," Grimmjow said, running his hand along the tattoo, "_My heaven and my life. _Got it when my sister turned six."

Ichigo shivered, shoving Grimmjow hard in the shoulder, catching him off guard, "Why, _why_ can't I get you out of my head? You ruined everything!"

Grimmjow was still grinning. He laughed, "I ruined everything?"

"You're not…what everybody thinks," Ichigo argued, shoving him again, "You're supposed to be just a stupid delinquent, a piece of trash, a gangbanger who beats people up for money! You're just an ignorant, insignificant brat that's never gonna get out of this town. You're just a blip on the map, a flea…"

"I'm all those things and more."

"You're not," Ichigo whispered, shaking his head side to side, "You're none of those fucking things, Grimmjow, and it makes me sick that you're not. If you were, if you were - were any of those things, I wouldn't be so confused. I…I'm sick of thinking about you. Sick of it and…"

"And?" Grimmjow growled, cocking his head to look down into Ichigo's face. Ichigo was shivering again. Grimmjow's hands were in his pockets, his arms looking tense, like he was holding himself back from punching. _Ah, but didn't he deserve it?_ Talking to a gangbanger like this would get him more than a few punches to the face.

_But he's not hitting me. He's different. I'm different, and here we are, together._

"You don't even know me," Grimmjow intoned, his voice deep, sinful, "If I hadn't stepped into that alley that night, you wouldn't have ever become friends with me."

"The convenience store," Ichigo said numbly, "I wanted to be friends with you at the convenience store. You called me Strawberry. I knew your name. You bought spaghetti. Was it for Nel, Grimm? Did you make Nel spaghetti? Did you tuck her in that night and promise her dreams instead of nightmares? Do you love her? Because if you do, I think I've learned more about you in a month than most people you have been hanging around your entire life."

Ichigo felt his back hit a chain link fence, throwing him off guard. How much farther had they wandered in their reveries? It was still raining, a rough torrential downpour that did nothing to extinguish the feelings inside of him. He was mad, insane. Crazy. Crazy for a blue-haired delinquent he didn't deserve; could never have, because that was how the world worked. It wasn't fair. It was cruel; it took things away from him and didn't let him have the rest.

"You don't know my life," Grimmjow growled, his face an inch away from Ichigo, his hands fisted in the front of Ichigo's shirt, "Don't talk like you know shit, kid. You have a roof over your head and a safe neighborhood, a father that provides for you and enough food in your house to feed my family one hundred times over. You've never slept on the street, had a gun held to your head, or listened to your little sisters cry because they haven't eaten in three days. You don't. Know. _Anything_."

Ichigo felt laughter bubble out of his throat, surprising both of them. Ichigo's head snapped to the side at the force of Grimmjow's punch. He took another breath, waiting for another blow. Instead, Grimmjow's hands rested around his neck, pushing so hard he could feel the metal of the fence digging into the back of his skull.

"You're right," Ichigo sighed, staring straight into Grimmjow's eyes, "all I know is that you showed my mentally and physically handicapped sister love, treated her like a princess when other people pretend she doesn't exist. I know you want to be a doctor, raise your sister right. I know you love your sister more than you love yourself, and I know for a damn fact that no matter how many times you punch me, it's not going to make you feel any better, is it?"

"Fuck you," Grimmjow hissed, shaking him, "Shut up."

"Hey, Grimm," Ichigo said, placing his hands on the wrists that were currently loosening around his neck, "Tell me why you saved me in that alley. Tell me why you let me in your world, let me hang with your friends. Tell me why you haven't beaten the shit out of me yet."

"Stop," Grimmjow said darkly, his fingers tightening again sporadically.

"No more stopping. Tell me _why_."

Later, neither would remember who had started it, but it didn't matter.

There was only a moment of hesitation before lips crashed together, tongues scraping tongues and teeth, nipping, biting, clawing. Rain.

Breathing, more biting, sucking. Ichigo felt blood on his lip from the punch, but Grimmjow was currently licking at the wound, as if apologizing for what he had done. Fingers that had been around Ichigo's neck had moved, pushing against his shoulders, an iron-like grip moving to his elbows, so painful yet so perfect.

Ichigo was gasping, both of them were gasping. There was no air. Not enough air. Not enough telling.

"I'll tell you tomorrow," Grimmjow murmured, shoving away from Ichigo and walking briskly down the street, the rain hammering down so hard at this point it was almost like fog. The streets were flooding, but Ichigo didn't move. He twined his fingers in the chain link fence, anchoring himself. He was still here. He was here, anchored to the earth. To the ground. He was real.

_He was real. I am real. We are real._

By the time Ichigo recovered enough to move, Grimmjow was gone. The lyrics from the song spun over and over in his mind as he wandered home:

_'Strolling, so vagrant, so shaken, so grown, so god so mistaken_

_So broke, so, so complacent, so worn out, so worn out, so worn out_

_So full of doubt, so full of restraint_

_So full of that self-control, or the lack thereof.'_

**Review?**


	5. Quaestio Questio

**-Tell Me Tomorrow-**

_'Ain't it funny?_

_We can sneak into our lives undisturbed?_

_Over the perfect things to say_

_And then just choke on the words?'_

**-Chapter Five: Quaestio Questio**-

It was impossible to make eye contact the following day at school.

Impossible. How could he? He had barely slept that night, unable to make sense of the madness he had allowed to happen. Or Grimmjow had allowed to happen. Either way, there wasn't exactly an easy way to smooth over the whole ordeal.

The bell rang, dismissing students from their homeroom. Ichigo moved along with the sea of students, allowing Keigo to nearly talk his ear off as he made his way to English. He took his normal seat, dismissing Tatsuki when she asked about the purplish bruise that had formed on the corner of his mouth tracing to his jaw. She finally left him alone, frustrated that he hadn't given her a good enough answer. Ichigo was thankful for the quiet.

Class began, several students groaning as Shunsui-sensei announced that they would be reading a rather famous piece of English literature, Romeo & Juliet. Ichigo sighed: he'd read the famous Shakespearean play over a dozen times. He was contemplating if it were possible to recycle one of his research papers from freshman year when sensei began picking people to read parts aloud to the class.

"Oi, Kurosaki," Shunsui-sensei beckoned with a smile, his flamboyant yukata nearly hurting Ichigo's eyes with the brightness of the colors, "You seem like a Benvolio to me. Trustworthy, honest, helpful, not to mention your English is impeccable. Mind helpin' me out here?"

"Of course, sensei," Ichigo agreed, thankful he wouldn't be reading the leading part of Romeo. Romeo had always rubbed Ichigo the wrong way. As far as Ichigo was concerned, he was a whiny sixteen year-old narcissistic brat obsessed with beauty as the deciding factor of a relationship. He was such a one dimensional, flat character that Ichigo had to believe Shakespeare had done it on purpose for some greater meaning to add to the universe.

"And…Romeo," Shunsui-sensei said, his eyes on the text in his one hand while the other was pointing feverishly around the room, "Eeny, meany, miney…mo! Ah, Grimmjow-kun, you're a handsome guy, how about playing our woeful teenage hero?"

A few people snickered and Ichigo wanted nothing more than to look over two rows and three seats back to see the look on Grimmjow's face at that moment.

"Come on! Don't be a stick in the mud," Shunsui-sensei pleaded, sitting on the edge of his desk and gesturing to the rest of the room, "I never get any participation from you, which means one of two things: either you suck at English, or you're shy, and I've seen your work, you're too good at this, so how about showing off some of that language talent?"

"One scene," Grimmjow offered, making Shunsui-sensei beam with happiness.

"Alright. Since many of you are already familiar with the text, I went through and plucked some of my favorite scenes, then we can talk about 'em in a respectable fashion. And yes, Keigo, I'll give you a chance to play Romeo, so stop fidgeting."

Keigo whined with happiness as the rest of the room laughed. Shunsui flipped through the pages of the short play, his finger stopping on a page he had dog-eared, "Ah, here we go, Act I, Scene I, line 166. Go on, noble Benvolio and charming Romeo up to line 200."

The students rustled through their novels, settling onto the page to be read, Ichigo swallowing to prepare for the lines. He barely had to look at the words he had read them so many times, and remembered this scene practically by heart, so he began: "_Good morrow, cousin_."

"No no no," Shunsui-sensei, shaking his head slightly, "Stand up, you two! This is a play, is it not? We need to have some eye contact, emotion."

"With all due respect, sensei, this isn't a theatre appreciation class," Ichigo grit out.

"We are reading a play. Plays are meant to be seen and heard," sensei mused, offering Ichigo a small smile, "Come on, boys. Let's play nice."

There were a few dispersed chuckles in the room, making Ichigo agitated. Whatever. He shouldn't have to feel awkward about anything. Hell, he wasn't even sure if what had happened last night had been real. He stood up and turned slightly, enough to make eye contact with Grimmjow who had stood up as well, holding the book slightly away from him, as if he were concentrating.

"You may begin whenever you are ready, noble Benvolio," Shunsui-sensei said, his voice playful.

There was a heartbeat of silence, than Ichigo began:

"_Good morrow, cousin_."

"_Is the day so young_?" Grimmjow asked, saying it almost hesitantly.

Ichigo smirked. This was going to be fun, "_But new struck nine_."

"_Aye me. Sad hours seem long_."

"Hold it!" Shunsui-sensei held out his hands, "What was that, Grimmjow-kun? No no no, not right at all. Romeo is supposed to be depressed, not bored talking about the weather. More vigor, Grimmjow-kun! Dig deep!"

"You want me to be depressed?" Grimmjow asked, earning some laughs.

"You're about to confide in your closest cousin: you're depressed, lonely, uncertain. A relationship has gone awry; there are issues that need to be worked out…"

As Shunsui-sensei continued, Ichigo couldn't help but think how disgustingly twisted fate, god, and the devil were to be tormenting him like this. It was as if Shunsui-sensei knew everything that was going on between the two boys, although that was impossible. Nearly all of the students didn't even know how close of a friendship they had developed over the past month, although a few had approached him about him disappearing to the roof top during lunch, assuming he was buying drugs or smoking. He had let them think what they wanted because he honestly didn't care about his reputation unless it was against his honor as an excellent student. But this, this English class, had somehow become a tool to inflict a sense of personal hell on Ichigo.

"Let's try again, from your line, Romeo."

Grimmjow sighed, looking at Ichigo, "_Aye me! Sad hours seem long. Was that my father that went hence so fast_?"

"_It was_," Ichigo answered, staring at Grimmjow almost concernedly, "_What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?_"

"_Not having that which having makes them short_."

"_In love?_" Ichigo murmured, adrenaline spiking in his veins at the word.

"_Out-_"

"_Of love_?"

Grimmjow looked right into Ichigo's eyes, "_Out of her favor where I am in love_."

Ichigo wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor and disappear. God, he had the most intelligent, deep eyes he had ever seen. Such simple words, but Ichigo wished for them to have a double meaning.

He focused, returning to the task at hand, his veins singing with hot blood as he remembered Grimmjow's rough treatment from the night before. Angry, he remembered the lines verbatim from memory, "_Alas that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!_"

No one was looking in their books any longer, their eyes fixed to the two boys enacting the scene as if they were truly the only ones in the room. Even Shunsui-sensei looked rapt with attention.

Grimmjow cocked his head to the side, glancing up every second or so to connect eyes with Ichigo as he read: "_Alas that love, whose view is muffled still, Should without eyes see pathways to his will! Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here? Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all_."

He took a breath, his eyes completely concentrated on Ichigo, the book forgotten: "_Here's much to do with hate, but more with love. Why then, O brawling love, O loving hate, Oh anything, of nothing first create_."

Ichigo felt his chest tighten, more than surprised that Grimmjow had memorized such verse. It made him angry. Was Grimmjow mocking him?

Grimmjow continued, back to looking at the book: "_O heavy lightness, serious vanity, Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms, Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is_!"

Grimmjow sighed in what Ichigo assumed was frustration. He ran a hand through his blue locks, tangling them back off of his forehead, his lightning blue eyes falling on Ichigo's face again, the book at his side, forgotten again, "_This love feel I, that feel no love in this. DOST THOU NOT LAUGH_?"

Ichigo fought the thickness in his throat, trying to keep his voice even, "_No, coz, I rather weep_."

"_Good heart, at what_?"

Ichigo nearly whispered the next words, his eyes molten honey as they studied Grimmjow's face. He didn't need to look at the text, "_At thy good heart's oppression_."

Grimmjow scoffed, turning his eyes back to the text, "_Why, such is love's transgression. Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest With more of thine. This love that thou hast shown Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; Being purged, a faire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers' tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet._"

"Excellent," Shunsui-sensei praised, clapping his hands slowly, "Absolutely excellent. You two are fantastic."

Ichigo sat down quickly, afraid that if he didn't, his legs would give out. He could still feel Grimmjow's eyes on him, electricity humming through his spine as he contemplated the scene. Shunsui opened the room up for discussion, closing it several minutes later when Keigo announced that he would be more than willing to take on the next Romeo scene.

And everything was nearly forgotten.

**XXX**

Ichigo pushed open the heavy door to the roof, nodding to the few stoners who looked his way. He meandered, not in a hurry but desperate to be there at the same time. He couldn't get what had happened in English class out of his head, how the scene had become so real for him that it had made him blush. The play wasn't even about Benvolio and Romeo, but the way Grimmjow had read it to him…Ichigo could argue that Grimmjow was having just as much difficulty processing what had happened as he was.

_And it did happen. It was...something. Anything._

"Mah mah," Gin called, a lollipop tucked in the corner of his mouth, "Wha' happn'd 'ta yah, Berry?"

Ichigo ran his eyes over Shirosaki, Gin, and finally Grimmjow, deciding to tell the truth, "What does it look like, ass hole? I got punched."

"Abarai find ya?" Gin asked, his smirk almost teasing. Ichigo narrowed his eyes: he had a sneaking suspicion that Gin had already learned what had happened.

"No, another dick," Ichigo said, his arms folded over his chest.

"Ne, s'not so bad. Could'a been worse," Gin smiled, getting up from his place on the floor, "Oi, Shi, ya owe me a sandwich."

"Dammit," Shirosaki whined from his place on the tarmac where he had been splayed out on his back, "Can't'cha go get it yerself?"

"I'm hungry," Gin said, kicking him in the side and making Shirosaki curse, "and I said ya owe me a sandwich."

"Christ, alright alright!" Shirosaki got up, punching Gin in the shoulder.

The two friends wandered off, but not before Gin turned his head back, offering Ichigo a glance at his mysterious and nearly transparent blue eyes, "Really, Ichi, he coulda' hit a lot harder."

Ichigo watched the little bastard wander down the stairwell with Shirosaki, who, for the most part, had been completely oblivious to the awkward tension between Grimmjow and Ichigo. Ichigo flexed his fingers, frowning: had Grimmjow opened his big mouth or had Gin figured it out on his own?

"You fuckin' told him?" Ichigo murmured, not making eye contact.

"No," Grimmjow said, hands in his pockets as he leaned against the rooftop fence, "I told you. He's perceptive as shit. He reads people better than he reads books."

They stood there in silence for what felt like ages, Ichigo wondering if Gin had led Shirosaki away on purpose, or if he would be right back, a sandwich in hand that apparently Shirosaki had owed him. Another bet maybe? Hopefully it hadn't been about him. He was tired of gambling.

Ha, gambling. Wasn't that what he'd been doing this entire time? Gambling a relationship with a delinquent? Honestly, what had he expected to happen? There was nothing between them; a tentative friendship at best, school acquaintances at worst.

_But the pink tea set and the Shakespeare and the eyes and the grins and the promises and the kiss._ Had it been a kiss? It had been all teeth and aggression. _No no no wrong wrong wrong._

"We don't gotta talk about it," Grimmjow finally stated, making Ichigo snap his head up in attention.

"So forget about it?" Ichigo said, more than agitated. He didn't know whether to be angry or relieved. What did he want? What was the point?

"Can't you?" Grimmjow said, cocking his head to the side, "Can't you do that for me?"

"I don't know."

More silence.

"I didn't mean to hit you," Grimmjow said, scuffing his shoe against the pavement, still not meeting his eyes, "Sometimes…sometimes I just go blind with anger."

Ichigo snorted, "Yah, my face picked up on that."

"It could've been worse," Grimmjow threatened, although Ichigo didn't hear any real heat in the words.

Silence.

Ichigo swallowed, "If I forget, we're still friends, right?"

Grimmjow looked at him then, his face unreadable, "Aren't we?"

"Hn," Ichigo grinned at the ground before looking Grimmjow in the eyes again, "You're scared."

Grimmjow took a step forward, the fence rattling behind him as he stood to his full height, his body language screaming intimidation, although his voice was calm, "Could you be a little more articulate?"

"You're scared of me," Ichigo chuckled, hands now in his jean pockets, "Am I right? You're scared with what I know, huh? That big bad Grimmjow has a soft side."

"You're an idiot. I don't care what you know."

"Then prove it," Ichigo said calmly. "Kiss me."

**XXX**

Grimmjow was shocked, his insides quivering, his throat dry.

_Stop it, Ichigo. Stop looking at me like that. _

Cinnamon toffee brown eyes refused to look away from him, his face almost blank as he waited for Grimmjow to react. _Stop it. Stop looking at me._

He hadn't meant to do it. Shit, he couldn't even remember if he had leaned forward or if Ichigo had, but the next thing he had known was that his tongue had been in a warm mouth and his teeth were assaulting those pouty lips presented in front of him at that moment. There had been heat, and desire, and chaos, and it had scared the living hell out of him.

He had never kissed a man. Ever, never even thought about it even once. He liked girls. He touched them, fucked them. But he never kissed them.

_He had kissed Ichigo. _

And he wanted to again, and that made him feel sick.

"Don't fuck with me," Grimmjow finally growled, taking another step forward so he was leaning down into Ichigo.

Ichigo's lip twitched, like he found Grimmjow's intimidation attempt ridiculous, "That's exactly what I do with you. That's what we do: we pussyfoot around each other, when it's all so simple, isn't it? Just admit you're scared, Grimm. It's not that hard."

"Shut up," Grimmjow hissed, wanting to shove the berry out of his way so that he could escape. But his eyes flickered over the bruise that had formed on Ichigo's chin to the corner of his mouth, the result of a half-assed upper hook. Regret washed over Grimmjow at the same time his pride rebelled.

_That had been a shitty punch. The kid had made him lose it. Control. It's all about control. _

"I don't have time to play with you," Grimmjow warned, walking past Ichigo and away from him, trying to avoid the intoxicating smell he had come to associate with the slightly older male.

"You're running, Grimm."

Grimmjow stopped and turned, not liking how confident Ichigo sounded. What did he want?

_What do I want? What do I want?_

"I like pussy," Grimmjow spat, anger boiling in his veins as he watched Ichigo crack a wide smile, "I like girls, I fuck girls, kid. Don't look at me like that."

"But you kissed me," Ichigo said matter-of-factly, "And I'm thinking that kiss was better than your last fuck, am I right?"

"I'm warning you, drop it."

Ichigo just stared at him, making Grimmjow wonder what could possibly be going through that brilliant mind of his, underneath that soft-looking, orange hair. He hadn't run his fingers through it last night. He should have, he should have…

_Stop it._

"Gin told me you have a thing for orange," Ichigo smirked, "If I was a girl, would you fuck me too?"

"Christ, Ichigo," Grimmjow said, walking up close to him again, afraid to touch him, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Ichigo smirked again, ridiculously un-scared, "You used to irritate the hell out of me. I kept trying to figure you out, compartmentalize all the little things that made you Grimmjow. You've been annoying my mind since the beginning of the school year, and the more I try to figure you out, the more I fucking fall for you. I don't know how it happened, I just know it did. You have to tell me what you're thinking, because right now, I'm more scared then I've ever been in my life."

Grimmjow listened, trying to become defensive. Trying to shut it all out, keep it all in, he wasn't sure.

"You walk around with barbed wire, and I get it, you want to protect yourself, keep yourself sane. But when I'm with you, you don't fucking cut me with that barbed wire. You let it down, and you fucking smile, and you care about people, and you told me you'd tell me tomorrow."

The dam broke. It all broke. Everything was broken.

Grimmjow was livid, "What do you want me to say, huh? That I'm into you, that I think about you when I shouldn't, that I dream about you and want you? That I wanna fuck you until you're permanently stupid and then do it all over again? Is that what you wanna hear?"

There was a moment of contemplation, then Ichigo shrugged, "If it's true, then, yeah, I do."

_This is bullshit. I'm gonna lose it._

**XXX**

_It's not enough to say I'm sorry. But either way I can't breathe._

Ichigo was still staring at Grimmjow as he looked at his surroundings, anywhere but at Ichigo as the lunch bell rang, announcing the end of lunch. The few students that had been hanging out on the roof disappeared and all Ichigo could think of was that they hadn't moved. Why won't Grimmjow move?

_It's time to say goodbye?_

"It's better off this way," Grimmjow growled, running a hand through his hair again, "It's better off this way."

Ichigo smiled sadly, his eyes half-lidded as he felt his stomach tie into knots. Everything was tied up into knots. Everything was tired and rusted and bruised and just so worn out.

_Take my pain away._

"Tell me I was wrong," Ichigo asked, the wind gusting through his hair and ruffling his clothes.

Grimmjow's eyes looked dark and focused, his chin set, "You're fuckin' wrong."

"Come on," Ichigo taunted, unable to help the smile on his face, "Like you mean it."

_How do you breathe? How do you sleep? _

"Why are you doing this?" Grimmjow said, stepping so close to Ichigo that he could feel the heat of his body, looming over him as he searched those honey eyes. He was angry, but he didn't know if he was more angry at Ichigo or himself, "There's nothing to say."

"Liar."

Grimmjow's grin was dripping in sin, "I don't like you. I fucking hate you."

"Bullshit."

"Always, Ichi."

Ichigo felt himself move, pushing Grimmjow hard enough to have him stumble back, but he quickly regained his balance. Ichigo ran into him again, unsure of his objective.

_Say I'm wrong say I'm wrong say I'm wrong_.

Grimmjow grunted as his side hit the large metal vent sticking out of the rooftop, but he tried to move out of the way as Ichigo let his fist fly. He nicked Grimmjow on the chin, but the momentum had been lost when he'd moved sideways. Years of karate kicked in, his right leg lifting, a knee lifting but not moving fast enough for Grimmjow's arm coming out for defense.

Ichigo felt blood in his mouth when Grimmjow's fist cracked against his right cheekbone, having bit his tongue. Ichigo threw his hands out in front of him, moving slightly to the side to shove Grimmjow's chest away from him, keep him out of arm's reach while he tried to regroup. Grimmjow's fingers wrapped around one of his wrists, yanking him forward for a kick to the gut. The air left Ichigo's lungs as he crumpled to the ground, a hand over the area that had just been assaulted.

"I don't want you," Grimmjow said with fervor, straddling Ichigo's hips and lifting him up slightly by holding onto the front of his shirt, his knuckles dusting Ichigo's cheek as he punched him again. Ichigo coughed, spit and some blood hitting the tarmac with a slapping sound.

"I fucking hate you," Grimmjow continued, gripping Ichigo's neck with one strong hand and pushing his head back down against the rooftop. Ichigo squirmed, hoping Grimmjow was done punching him. He was feeling lightheaded, but a sick twisted part inside of him enjoyed the pain. He realized with a smirk that he was half hard, Grimmjow still poised over him to attack.

"You mean nothing to me."

"Not convinced," Ichigo tried to shrug, breathing just as heavily as Grimmjow. He felt victorious as he noticed the red welt mark on the hollow of Grimmjow's right cheek. With any luck, it would bruise a nasty purple green.

"Fuck," Grimmjow growled, his hands sliding to grip the back of Ichigo's neck forcefully, his lips falling over Ichigo's hungrily. Fuck fuck fuck.

Ichigo almost bucked right off of the tarmac at the contact, shocking his senses as he realized they were attacking each other again. There was no sweetness, none at all, just raw need. Adrenaline raced through their veins, making Ichigo highly aware of the throbbing in his cock and the twisting, gnarling need in his stomach. It was biting again, angry, but Ichigo would take whatever Grimmjow was offering him.

Grimmjow practically snarled into his mouth, his fingers bruising and tight as they gripped the back of his head, tugging on his hair, making Ichigo whine. Grimmjow ran his tongue over the cut on Ichigo's tongue, finally pulling on it enough to suck on it, making Ichigo groan so low and deep in his throat that he thought his bones would shake apart. _What were they doing what were they doing._

Ichigo finally began shoving at Grimmjow's chest, making them part, Ichigo slapping Grimmjow as hard as he could, his eyes squeezed shut.

Grimmjow rolled over, getting to his hands and knees and standing up, pulling at the front of his shirt like he wanted to tear it off. Both were fighting to breathe, Ichigo not sure if he could even make it to his feet. He felt like a puddle of burning flesh. His face was beginning to burn from the punches, which was soon replaced with throbbing.

"You're just…I can't even look at you right now," Ichigo said angrily, rolling onto his back, his hands over his eyes as he took tally of his aches and pains. His tongue was on fire, throbbing nearly as painfully as his head, which Grimmjow had managed to land at least one good punch on. The other didn't hurt as bad, and his neck itched where Grimmjow's fingers had been, goose bumps gliding down his spine as he remembered Grimmjow gripping the back of his neck at the hairline, tugging.

_This was so fucked up._

"We're not…" Grimmjow began, staring down at Ichigo, not moving from his place, "this doesn't mean anything."

A couple minutes later, after a profound silence and once their breathing was back to normal, Grimmjow offered Ichigo a hand. Against his better judgment, he took it, and the boys left the roof and headed for chemistry.

**XXX**

"Yer an idiot," Gin said with a smile.

"Fuck off," Grimmjow grumbled, wishing Gin would just drop it. Grimmjow loved Gin like a brother, trusted him more than anybody else in the world, but he was fucking annoying him right now and he needed some space to cool off.

"At least he got back at'cha," Gin said, indicating the bruise that was beginning to form on Grimmjow's face, "Although in class it looked like 'ya did some more damage ta' him too."

Grimmjow sighed, closing his eyes and trying to ignore his friend. Chemistry had been strained and awkward after both of them had gotten a tongue-lashing from Yoruichi-sensei for their tardiness. They were lucky they hadn't gotten a detention, and Ichigo had refused to look at him even once during the class period, which was understandable. He was being a total prick.

_I don't like a guy_, Grimmjow thought to himself. _I don't want to kiss him and touch him and fuck him. I don't want that. I don't want him._

"So did'ja kiss yet?" Gin asked, getting on his haunches and rutting around in the older man's trouser pockets. They had gotten a call from Aizen to take care of some money launderer on the east side who had been dodging him for some time, and Grimmjow didn't usually work alone. Gin had agreed to accompany him, considering he had needed to be in the same general area to pick up a few kilos. Gin finally removed a wallet as the man groaned. Gin ruffled through it, pulling the loose yen bills and the man's license and a photo that had been in heavy plastic.

"Shut the fuck up," Grimmjow hissed.

"Oh, fuckin' save it, Grimm," Gin scoffed, his face quite serious even as his eyes were slitted, "You've got it bad for tha' kid. Even a blind man could see tha', and judgin' by the way 'ya reacted, I'd say ya' have. It's alright if yer sweet on 'im; nobody's gotta know."

Grimmjow weighed Gin's words, knowing he spoke truth. Even if he did want Ichigo (which he was vehemently denying), he could keep it under wraps. Gin would never betray him, and nobody else had to know. If anybody found out that Grimmjow had been favoring the berry, knew anything about what had been going on between them, he'd be royally fucked in the world he had allowed himself to be incorporated into.

Gays were sought out and beaten for no reason other than to humiliate them. Grimmjow knew for a fact that Gin straddled the fence, but nobody fucked with Gin Ichimaru. He'd been a Soul Reaper once upon a time and left them for the Espada. The Soul Reapers were still bitter about the betrayal, but Gin had done it for a reason. Gin always had a reason for everything, and if Gin was offering him advice, he knew it was in his best interest to listen.

But it still freaked him out to think that he might be sexually attracted to another male. It was so frustrating to deny it, because he knew at his core that he had wanted to do that to Ichigo for a while, even if it had been unconsciously.

_I want to do even more than that_.

The thought was strange, and it made Grimmjow feel uncomfortable to dwell on it for too long, but then he remembered Ichigo's confession in the alley way, the fire in his eyes when he had stood his ground against Soul Reapers, his wit and his attitude, the way he cared for his sister, like her comfort was the first priority. He wasn't just a vizard, and Grimmjow couldn't pretend that he didn't want to experiment with the berry. Grimmjow had always been stubborn, and it didn't help that Gin had picked up on the chemistry between them so quckly and so easily.

"Tessai Tsukabishi," Gin announced, smiling down at the man who was on the verge of passing out. They had tried to tell him not to run, but he hadn't listened. Gin had got to him first, but Grimmjow was still so angry about what had happened at school that day that he had gone a little overboard and beaten the man pretty badly. Gin smiled at the man, looking at the picture he had plucked, "Nice family ya got here. Don't skip town any time soon, ne?"

They left the man in the alleyway, knowing they hadn't hurt him nearly enough to send him to a clinic or a hospital. Grimmjow was still agitated, and decided that he needed a good fuck to clear his head. He pulled out his phone, scanning the names until he fell on that strawberry blonde girl with the big tits he had screwed around with a few months ago.

"I gotta go work on that chemistry project," Gin said with a smirk, "Ya got any plans for the evenin'?"

Grimmjow realized where they were walking, recognizing the area. He was only about a fifteen-minute walk away from Ichigo's neighborhood.

He looked down at the girl's number one last time before deleting it.

**XXX**

Ichigo curled up on his side, exhausted. As soon as he had gotten home from school, he'd began preparing a westernized dinner while Karin entertained Yuzu and did her own homework. His father had worked late that night, so Ichigo had been in charge of clean up and putting Yuzu to bed again. He'd then proceeded to do his own homework, throwing himself into it with more concentration than usual to keep his mind from wandering to a blue-haired delinquent and the chaos that had happened on the rooftop that day.

He'd put an icepack on his bruises, taken a shower, and fallen into bed with a sigh. He'd been tossing and turning and now it was nearly two in the morning.

He heard his cell phone vibrate once, announcing a text message.

He searched for it blindly, his fingers grazing over it on his nightstand. He stared at the screen, uncomprehending.

A text message from Gin Ichimaru.

Gin had given him his number quite some time ago, claiming that if he ever gave the number away to anybody, and he meant ANYBODY, that Ichigo would experience pain unlike any he had ever felt in his life. And he had said it all with that mysterious smile.

Ichigo opened it anyway.

_BERRY-_

_He ain't never liked anything with a cock. Give him time._

_Ja ne!_

Ichigo read it three more times, fighting an earsplitting grin.

**A/N: A few of you have requested the name of the song and artist I have been using for this story. I highly recommend listening to it. Song/Artist: "P.O.S. Is Ruining My Life" by P.O.S.**

**Thank you and I appreciate any and all reviews. -TPP**


	6. Suscipio

**-Tell Me Tomorrow-**

_''Ain't it funny?_

_We can sneak into our lives undisturbed?_

_Over the perfect things to say_

_And then just choke on the words?'_

**-Chapter Six: Suscipio**-

It was another week before either boy saw each other again. Of course they were forced to interact in class, considering Shunsui-sensei had picked on them again for another scene and they had to cooperate with each other in chemistry.

Ichigo had bolted from his final class of the day, preparing to catch the bus when he was stopped in his tracks by a thin pale arm that pulled him into an alcove of the hallway. Before Ichigo could panic, he saw silver hair and slitted eyes.

"Ohio, Berry," Gin grinned, putting an arm around Ichigo's shoulders, "How 'bout'cha come over to my place taday?"

"Your place?"

"We never hang out," Gin said, the smirk erased from his face and replaced with something that could only be described as a pout, "Ne, ya know we've been missin' ya. Even Nnoitra's been whinin' that he's got nobody 'ta pick on. We'll only hang out fer a while, yah?"

Having nothing better to do that afternoon, Ichigo finally consented. There was absolutely no reason for his new friendship with Gin to suffer because of Grimmjow.

They departed the bus at 13th, walking the two blocks to Gin's neighborhood, a decent apartment block with chain link fences and kids playing in the street. He led Ichigo up a flight of stairs and unlocked a door marked C, ordering Ichigo to make himself comfortable while he grabbed some beers from the kitchen.

Ichigo wandered the small Westernized living room, impressed with the eclectic mix that was organized in its chaos. The walls and tile were bleach white, the couch black, including the wooden coffee table. Although there was not much color in the accessories, the walls were made more lively by framed and unframed posters of bands, some of them recognizable. There wasn't a single photograph, but there was an interesting old-looking clock and an antique lamp that looked Indian. Music magazines and an ashtray rested on the coffee table with a scattering of scientific journals and the morning's newspaper near the bright red recliner. A flat screen TV with a gaming system, a few games laying out and begging to be played, but all of that didn't compare to the surprise Ichigo felt staring at the two large bookshelves that graced either side of the television, stretching up to the roof, completely stuffed with books. He ran his fingers over a few of them, recognizing classic novels, British, English, and Japanese alike, not to mention more than a few in what looked like French and German. Chaucer, Milton, Hemmingway, Austen, and a complete anthology of world literature sat proudly. Religious texts as well, including the Bible, translated pieces of the Quran, the _Kama Sutra_, the P_rose Eda_, and even _The History of Witchcraft and Demonology_ in English. There were teen paperbacks, a Jason Myers novel, scholarly scientific and mechanical journals, books of Japanese haiku poetry and plentiful volumes of Shakespeare, Dickinson, and other European and African poets Ichigo didn't recognize. Books on philosophy, psychology, art, architecture, even astronomy; Ichigo was thoroughly convinced Gin read everything.

He picked up one older bound novel that smelled like dust and flipped through it, nearly jumping out of his skin when Gin said, "Ah, tha's a good one. Ya read Nietzsche?"

"To be honest, I don't even know what language this is."

"Russian," Gin answered, taking a seat on his couch and cracking open a beer, "I can translate it inta' Japanese if ya want."

"You can read all of these?" Ichigo said with reverence, running his fingers over the well-worn spines. He had to admit he was jealous, as he was fluent in only English and Japanese and one of his favorite activities was to read.

Gin smirked, "Most of 'em are my mum's. She used to read me her favorites and would make me write down her favorite passages all the time. Never got around to learnin' the French though."

"So, um, did she pass away?" Ichigo asked tentatively.

Gin took another hit of his beer, smiling at him, "Nah. She's in a mental institution in Osaka."

Ichigo didn't know what to say, so he stood near the bookcase uncomfortably.

"She's a paranoid schizophrenic," Gin said, answering Ichigo's unspoken question, "Too many manic episodes, so…but tha' medication is helpin'. I write ta' her when I can, and sometimes she writes back. Sometimes she forgets I can't read French."

Ichigo took a seat on the other side of the couch, grabbing the beer Gin offered him.

"It is what it is," Gin said, pulling a cigarette from behind his ear, "Ya don't have 'ta feel bad 'bout it."

"My mom died from cancer when I was a kid," Ichigo offered, unsure of why he was telling Gin, "Sometimes I forget she's dead."

Gin lit his cigarette, nodding his head, "I used ta tell people my mum was dead. Made it easier, ya know? But there ain't no point in pretendin': the world's got a way of finding everythin' out regardless. Might as well tell the truth to yer' enemies than lie to yer' friends, ne?"

Ichigo finished his beer, "Can I tell you something?"

"A'course."

"The first time I met you, I thought you were a stupid drug dealer with a weird accent."

Gin laughed, smoke curling out of his nostrils, "Two outta three ain't bad."

"So why do you do it? Why'd you guys join a gang?"

"Tha's a long story," Gin replied, stubbing out his spent cigarette right when they both heard the door to the apartment open and little feet running down the hallway.

Ichigo was taken aback at the very short little girl that had entered the living room, her blue-green hair wavy and past her elbows, her large grey eyes lit with excitement, "Fox-kun!"

"Heyya, Monster," Gin chuckled as the little girl practically jumped into his lap and she hugged him around the neck before sitting back on his lap and launching into an interesting story involving her spit and a slug.

Ichigo, still trying to process the fact that a child had appeared out of nowhere, was oblivious to Grimmjow, who was standing in the hallway, cussing Gin internally.

"Grimmy!" the little girl lisped, "Can we go to the park? I wanna show Fox-kun my pet!"

Grimmjow finally moved and took a seat in the red recliner, looking at Ichigo before turning his attention to the child, "I don't know. It's up to Gin."

"I'll take ya, Monster," Gin said, ruffling her hair and (winking?) at Grimmjow, "Let's let Grimmy and Berry have some play time."

"Berry!" the child giggled, crawling off of Gin's lap and startling Ichigo by tugging on his hair, "Soooo beautiful! I want hair like Berry-tan, Grimmy!"

Gin laughed while Ichigo couldn't help but smile like an idiot at the adorable little girl, "You must be Nel."

"Yep! How did you know? !"

"Grimm talks about you a lot."

Nel beamed, "Is your name Ichi-ho?"

Ichigo smirked at the lisp of his name, but nodded, surprised.

"Grimmy talks about you too!" Nel said, pointing at Grimmjow, "when he takes naps on Kenny's couch and talks in his dreams!"

Before Ichigo could ask who Kenny was, Gin hefted Nel up in his arms and started walking towards the hallway, "Let's go see tha' slug of yers, ne? Then maybe some ice cream."

Nel squealed with happiness before the door closed again, leaving Grimmjow and Ichigo alone. The sound of the air conditioner aided in the uncomfortable silence. Grimmjow finally sighed, "Did he tell you I was coming?"

"No," Ichigo said, picking up Gin's unfinished beer and practically chugging it. He hadn't realized how much he had needed one until Gin had left them utterly alone.

"Want another beer?" Grimmjow offered, getting up and making his way to the fridge.

So they were both going to pretend that they hadn't been set up.

They chatted about Nel. Grimmjow asked about Yuzu. Ichigo asked if he had seen Abarai lurking around lately, and Grimmjow admitted that they had run into each other on the street twice since the altercation. Obviously nothing physical had happened, but heated words had been exchanged. Ichigo stared at the bruise that was nearly faded away on Grimmjow's cheek and smiled, "Next time I'm going to show him what I'm capable of."

"Not if I have anything to do with it," Grimmjow said, cracking open his second beer, "Stay away from him, Ichi. He's a crazy little fuck."

"I owe him an ass kicking."

"He'll play dirty next time. He usually carries Zabimaru with him."

"Zabimaru?"

Grimmjow lifted the front of his shirt, exposing the faded long, jagged scar that ran down his front, the only large imperfection on the sculpted muscles down to his navel, "His knife. He almost gutted me. Stay away from him."

Ichigo hadn't taken his eyes off of the exposed flesh, unable to look away until Grimmjow lowered his shirt again.

"What about the other one?"

Grimmjow understood his meaning; an x-shaped scar on his left pectoral, "Mouthed off to Tousen, our leader's lapdog. He didn't care that I'd been drunk. Cut me over my heart as a warning."

Grimmjow grinned at the memory, making Ichigo shiver, "Said he'd marked me and next time I fucked with him, there'd be a hole through the X. I was fifteen."

These were the moments where Ichigo couldn't be angry, where things seemed so simple in the world that having a beer and playing Playstation had the potential to make them both forget.

Both were becoming comfortable again, at least until Ichigo's elbow brushed against Grimmjow's on accident and sent a bolt of electricity from his spine to his toes. He focused on the car racing on the screen, praying for Gin and Nel to return before Ichigo gave into the temptation to touch him again.

The next brush had been intentional. Grimmjow looked at him, both of them having been lying on their stomachs on the tile to play the video game, their preferred gaming posture.

Grimmjow was still staring at him, causing Ichigo to crash on screen. The game blinked giant green letters: _CONTINUE?_

Grimmjow leaned farther over, his breath hot on Ichigo's face, making his heart thunder in his throat.

"Don't," Ichigo warned, unsure of Grimmjow's actions.

"We friends again?" Grimmjow asked, his eyes so blue they hurt Ichigo's eyes, "Are we good?"

Ichigo didn't like how close they were. No, he needed space. Grimmjow's breath, his smell, it was clouding his mind. The screen finally asked patiently: _CONTINUE?_

"Yah," Ichigo admitted, his eyes half-lidded, waiting for Grimmjow to move away, to back off, but he wasn't.

_CONTINUE?_

The peck on the mouth had been so fast Ichigo didn't even register it until Grimmjow did it again, pulling away and sitting up to approach the gaming system to trade out discs.

Neither said anything as the next game began on the screen, both playing aggressively, even challenging each other and joking as both tried to destroy the other's warrior.

Nel came bouncing into the room sometime later with a grinning Gin.

**XXX**

Ichigo had stayed at Gin's late, even after Grimmjow had left to go to work. Nel had gone with him, claiming she was going to Kenny's again, making Ichigo wonder if Grimmjow's parents worked a lot for him to be watching her all the time and have babysitters. Grimmjow also had such a good relationship with a young sibling, a sibling that was twelve years his junior.

"Eleven," Gin corrected, "his eighteenth birthday is in December."

Ichigo had been surprised, having assumed Grimmjow to be the same age as the rest of them. Grimmjow had always acted so much older than his seventeen years. Hell, Ichigo felt like a child when he was around the gang members, knowing they had seemed to grow up so much faster than him. Of course Ichigo had learned responsibility and maturity quickly, but he still felt as if the gang members had so much more life experience than he did. He didn't even want to think about the family situations, drugs, and sex. That was just the tip of the iceberg.

"So did'ja kiss an' make up?" Gin asked coyly, scooping blow into clear plastic baggies on his coffee table. Ichigo had been surprised to see Gin come out of his bedroom with a block of the white monster, but something told Ichigo he needed to stop acting so damned surprised.

He was learning more about them, more about their world, but he still wasn't in their world. Even if he thought he knew them, there was still a lot about them that he didn't know.

He didn't want to look like a naïve little church boy, but it was bothering him, "Jesus, how much coke do you sell in a week?"

Gin snorted, zipping another bag, "A week? Ne, probably five kilos. I'm a pusher; Aizen's content havin' me cover my high school and my club scenes."

"H-how much is a kilo?"

"Roughly 2.2 pounds," Gin said, finished scraping the small notebook-sized sheet of glass clean with a razor blade. He'd been chopping the blow and forming it into neat, long skinny lines, another question Ichigo had asked about. Apparently they were called 'rails' and you were supposed to snort the rails, usually two, one for each nostril. Then sit back, relax, and go fucking insane.

"Do you do it?" Ichigo blurted, unable to imagine Gin enjoying the mind-numbing effects of such a potent and addictive substance. Honestly, after seeing Gin's personal library, he never even would have suspected Gin of being in a gang much less being a drug pusher.

Gin shook his head, removing the clear plastic gloves he'd been wearing, "Nah. Never."

"It's pretty rare for a drug dealer to be clean, right?"

"I'm jus' tha' middle man," Gin smirked, looking at Ichigo with one light blue orb, "I pick it up from our main buyer. He checks it, an' all I gotta do is distribute it. I get a certain percentage of everythin' I sell, and trust me, there's a lot more people out there on this shit than you'd think, kid."

"Does Grimmjow…?"

Gin snickered, "Nah, no way. Ya see the way he looks at Nel? 'Sides, he'd never mess with narcotics, not with his history."

Ichigo dropped it after that, not wanting to seem nosey. It made him feel better, though, to know that Gin and Grimmjow didn't do the drugs they were forced to push. Although from what Gin had told him, Grimmjow had absolutely nothing to do with the drug cartel. Gin had been recruited for his brains, Grimmjow for his brawn. Ichigo could justify bits and pieces of the activities, knowing that they weren't really given a choice, but Ichigo couldn't wrap his mind around why someone would join a gang in the first place if it wasn't benefitting them.

"So why'd you do it? Why'd you guys join?" Ichigo decided to press when Gin had gotten up from the couch with his black backpack, which now held the cocaine, "Why do all this if you're not into it?"

Gin returned a moment later, splaying out on the couch, regarding Ichigo with a steady look, "Why did ya approach Grimmjow? Why'd ya keep talkin' to us? Why'd 'ya come to the club and why'd'ja come over ta' my place today?"

Ichigo wasn't following the logic, so he took a sip from the water bottle he'd been offered earlier to stall.

"Ya wanted to," Gin continued, the smirk gone, "Ya wanted friendship, ne? Wanted 'ta understand things abou' the world. I knew what I was doin' when I was jumped into the Hollows; knew what I was giving up, but I was gaining too. Yah, I gotta push drugs, even though I watched my old man fuck up his life 'cuz of 'em, but I also gained a tight family unit, a family that's always got my back and'll never abandon me. It's more than drugs and spray paint and tattoos, it's a brotherhood."

"Is that why Grimmjow did it too?"

"You'll have 'ta ask 'im yerself," Gin's eyes disappeared in another grin, "Ne, but Grimm's much more noble than lil' ol' me. I was a whiny, misunderstood brat with parental issues; Grimm was a kid bein' forced 'ta be a man before his twelfth birthday. Nel might as well be his daughter."

He paused, "He's been through hell and back, an' instead of turnin' into a demon, he came back a saint. I ain't sayin' he's perfect, but he lives the best tha' he can, and tha's enough fer me."

Ichigo stared at the Hollow tattoo that was identical to Grimmjow's on Gin's left inner fore arm, the colors swirling together in his brain. Ichigo agreed: nobody was perfect, at least, nobody that was alive.

**XXX**

Grimmjow stared at the doorframe, willing himself to move forward, even though this was one of the last places on the fucking planet he wanted to be. It was late, nearly midnight, but after his shift he hadn't been able to get the thought of coming back out of his head and his feet had carried him before his mind could fully process his actions.

So here he stood, on the stoop to the shitty apartment he'd left over two weeks ago, more than annoyed that his mother hadn't even tried to get a hold of him all this time. It was only further proof that his mother didn't give a damn about Nel, about making sure she was safe. He clenched his fists at his sides before opening the unlocked door and stepping inside, confused with the quiet.

It was late on a week night: Yammy should have been yelling and screaming right about now, but there was nothing, not even the sound of the shitty refrigerator trying to stay alive.

He wandered slowly, the apartment bathed in shadows. He flicked a switch two times to confirm his thoughts, that his mother had neglected the electricity bill. Of course she had; when Grimmjow had picked up and left, he'd left her to figure her life out for herself, and if she wasn't pinching money out of Yammy, she was relying on a shitty check from the government that would barely cover rent much less electric bills. It had only been two weeks, but Grimmjow had known the bills were overdue when he had left. Guilt washed over him for a moment, but it quickly subsided when he made his way to his mother's bedroom, the room lit with a few low-burning candles that were bought cheap in bulk at a convenience store. His mother was in the corner, sitting on the ground, a bottle of Jack Daniels at her side, her hair mussed and greasy looking.

Grimmjow walked farther in, hoping she would come to her senses and realize his presence soon. It scared him that she was this out of it, in an unlocked apartment, in the middle of a notorious ghetto. She could have been robbed, not that there was anything of value to take. Or she could have been beaten, maybe even raped by the sickos that walked the streets. Even with the drinking and the pills, his mother had always been attractive, at least before her skin started turning a sickly yellow and the skin around her eyes started to give out.

"Mom," he finally breathed, seeing her head lift a fraction of an inch.

"He left me," she murmured, swinging her hand in the air, not staring at anything in particular.

For a moment, Grimmjow believed she was talking about him, but then anger washed over him as he realized she was talking about Yammy, "He dump you?"

She tilted her head to the side and made a snorting sound, "We were doin' so good, ya know? Not a care in the world, he really loved me…"

_He loved my money_, Grimmjow thought internally, not interrupting his pathetic mother.

"And the sex was good," she slurred, finally looking at Grimmjow with Nel's grey eyes, "It was really good."

"Jesus, mom," Grimmjow hissed, putting his hands in his hoodie pockets. The weather had been getting cooler lately as they approached November, "Don't tell me that shit."

"Why? Yer a big bad man now, ain't'cha, Grimmy?" she took another swig from the bottle, her eyes seeming to laugh at him, "My little baby's almost eighteen, ne? Don't tell me you don't fuck like a rabbit, kid, 'cuz I know ya do. Don't think I get so high and drunk that I don't hear you take bitches in that back room sometimes. What's wrong with you, huh? Your sister being right down the hall."

"At least I take care of Nel," Grimmjow said, his eyes looking back at the hallway, "At least I don't let her listen to you fuck a giant who beats the shit out of you on a daily basis. At least I try to be a human being around an innocent little girl who doesn't deserve a fucking parent like you."

His mother laughed, "Ya got your father's temper, ya know that?"

"Don't talk about him."

"Don't judge me," she slurred, pointing a finger at her own chest, "You know what? Your father used to hit me more than Yammy, your father used to beat you too, and you know what? I used to beg him to take it out on me instead."

Grimmjow stiffened, not wanting the information to be true. She was drunk, but a part of him wondered if she was being sincere, "Well that obviously didn't work."

She cackled with laughter, her head tilted to the side to stare right into his eyes, "But I tried, Grimmjow, didn't I? I tried to be a mom, didn't I? And that's the point: trying doesn't get you shit, Grimmjow. Look at this piss hole; look at my life. I never asked for any of this; I never asked for your son of a bitch father to disappear off the face of the earth, leaving me with a snot-nosed brat and a screaming baby."

She chuckled darkly to herself, tears sliding down her face as she smiled at Grimmjow, "Ya know what? We were fine with you; he loved you. He'd always wanted a son, but he didn't want another one. We slipped up, made a mistake. He hated me for it. I was gonna have an abortion; I was gonna make him happy, make him want me again. I coulda walked my ass to a clinic, had a little meeting, and gotten rid of my problems. I could've had my life back."

The anger was overwhelming. His brain was still trying to process how his mother could say such cruel and disgusting things about her own flesh and blood, about his baby sister who gave him reason to breathe. He crossed the room in a flash, kicking the alcohol bottle so hard it flew and shattered against the wall, making his mother cringe.

He got down on his haunches, grabbing her shoulders, and shook her violently, "You take that back! You fucking take that back right now, or I swear 'ta god…"

Grimmjow stared at her in horror as she smiled at him, the biggest fucking smile he had ever seen on her face in his life. He realized his hands were shaking, shaking so bad that he had to let go of her or he'd lose his balance.

"Ya gonna hit me too?" she asked breathily, touching his face with one hand and making him wince, "Yer just like yer daddy, Grimm. I see Dietrich Jaegerjaques in you, boy."

Grimmjow hissed as he pulled away, standing up and passing through the bedroom door, not able to look back at her, "I came to grab my shit, and I'm not coming back."

"Take care of my baby," she cooed softly, running her hands through her long black hair, "She miss me yet, Grimmjow? She ask about me everyday?"

Grimmjow was literally seeing red as he punched the doorframe, not even registering the throbbing he was so hyped up on adrenaline from his rage, "I'm gonna give her the life she should've had. I'm gonna make her so fuckin' happy that she won't even remember your name."

"You do that," she reasoned, making goose bumps rake up and down his arms, "you do that."

**XXX**

Ichigo was back to sitting with the gang at lunch, but things didn't feel like old times at all. The past few days had been nothing but awkward tension, and Ichigo wasn't sure if it was because of him and what had happened at Gin's apartment, or if it was something completely different weighing on his mind.

He was too big of a coward to ask.

Another weekend passed, no calls or texts from Grimm. Ichigo decided to send one, offering Grimmjow dinner at his place because Yuzu wanted to see him again.

He never texted back.

By Monday, Ichigo was on the verge of punching the blue-haired delinquent out of frustration. There was definitely something bothering him, and Ichigo finally approached Gin about it in the hallway, in front of over a dozen students who whispered behind their hands and even pointed. The two comrades were oblivious, of course: Ichigo was so past the bullshit of pretentiousness.

Gin sighed, "He won' tell me wha' happened. Trust me, I've tried draggin' it out of 'im."

"I've never seen him act like this."

Gin grinned, "No offense, Ichi, but'cha've known 'im like, what? Two months? There's shit about Grimmjow that even I don't know, and I've known 'im practically mah whole life."

Ichigo's brow was sufficiently furrowed, and Gin sighed again, as if making up his mind.

"I really don't think I should be tellin' ya," Gin repeated, shaking his head and making his silver bangs sway side to side, "It ain't right. It's his business, but I have a feelin' if ya dig a lil' deeper on 'im, he might tell ya."

"He won't even tell _you_," Ichigo said, arms folded across his chest, "Why the hell would he tell me?"

"Cuz ya got a bond with 'im that even he don't understand," Gin smiled, "and sometimes it's easier ta' tell a stranger yer problems then somebody ya've known 'yer whole life. There's always a fear of judgment: if there's anybody that's broken the boundaries of judgment and labels, it's you."

"But we're not strangers," Ichigo argued petulantly, surprised at how much that word hurt. Stranger? They were far from strangers. Ichigo didn't know what Grimmjow's favorite color or song was, but he knew the deeper shit that a lot of other people never got around to admitting or discussing. _Stranger my ass._

"Yah kinda are," Gin smirked again, his eyes completely hidden, "and that's yer strength right now, ain't it? In all the time I've known Grimmjow, the best thing 'ta do is ta' sit back and wait it out. He's like a hurricane: eventually his power gives out and passes. Whatever he's doin', it's best 'ta let him handle it, but I got a feelin' yer not gonna sit back and let this storm pass."

**XXX**

Ichigo decided the best form of attack, or at least the most effective means of attack, would have to come in class because Grimmjow wouldn't have the option of causing a scene or running. So during chemistry the next day, he scribbled something down on his notebook and shoved it towards Grimmjow while Yoruichi had her back turned, scribbling furiously on the board and ranting about something to do with ionic bonds.

Grimmjow flicked his eyes over the sentence, already annoyed: WHAT'S UP WITH YOU LATELY?

Grimmjow wrote a quick reply and shoved it back to Ichigo, turning his attention back to the board: **NONE'YA.**

SHIT AT HOME?

**YOU COULD SAY THAT.**

ANYTHING I CAN DO?

**YAH. PISS OFF.**

YUZU WANTS YOU TO COME OVER. SHE WANTS TO BAKE COOKIES WITH YOU.

It was another ten minutes before Ichigo got a response: **I DIDN'T THINK YOU WERE CAPABLE OF EMOTIONAL BLACKMAIL. YOU SHITTIN' ME?**

NO, I SWEAR. APPARENTLY YOUR LITTLE TEA PARTY LED TO A NEW OBSESSION WITH COOKIES. SHE'S BEEN BUGGING ME ABOUT YOU.

Another minute. **WHY?**

Ichigo snorted. SHE LIKES YOU. AND YOUR HAIR.

Ichigo's heart fluttered when he saw Grimmjow smile at the paper. **MAYBE.**

Ichigo could work with maybe.

**XXX**

"You sure this is okay?" Grimmjow said apprehensively.

"Of course," Ichigo answered, looking down at a smiling Nel as they approached Ichigo's front door. Ichigo had finally gotten Grimmjow to give in and come over after school, but only under the condition that Grimmjow could bring Nel. Apparently he hadn't spent a lot of time with her lately, and he felt guilty about it. Grimmjow had also been concerned that having his kid sister tag along might annoy the rest of Ichigo's family or offend his father in some way, which was ludicrous considering Isshin was obsessed with kids and was a big kid himself. He'd probably try to adopt Nel if they stayed late and had a chance to meet Ichigo's crazy whacky immature father, and Karin wouldn't even be home as she had stayed after school for her intramural soccer team.

So Ichigo had agreed to meet them at the bus stop and walk them to his house after school once Grimmjow had picked up Nel, a little more than excited to introduce Nel to Yuzu. He had a feeling that they would get along well, considering their mental ages were about the same, and Yuzu had a hard time making friends her own age.

"Wow!" Nel cried as they entered the house and were brought into the basic, mundane kitchen, "Soooo beautiful!"

Really? Ichigo took a look around: basic utilities, light yellow walls, tile floor and a rug. Wasn't much, but apparently Nel was impressed.

"Yuzu!" Ichigo called, wondering where she had gone. Last time he had checked, she had been waiting anxiously in the kitchen, holding a giant mixing bowl and spatula because she was so excited about the prospect of baking cookies. Although Yuzu had physical and mental issues, she was still a blossoming cook. She was quite good, and as long as she was supervised, Ichigo allowed her to cook meals and bake things whenever she felt inclined. If he was being honest, she was a better cook than he was, which surprised a lot of people that learned about her condition.

"Coming!" Yuzu chirped, her motorized wheelchair appearing in the hallway connecting to the kitchen, her face all smiles, "Hello! I'm…s-so-so excited!"

"Hey kid," Grimmjow called, still clutching Nel's little hand, "This is my baby sister, Nel."

Ichigo watched, a bit nervous. He hadn't talked to Grimmjow about telling Nel about his sister's condition; hadn't really thought about it, but now he was praying that Grimmjow had explained a few things to his little sister before she was exposed to a situation she had never found herself in. Ichigo knew that even adults were uncomfortable when confronted with his sister, so he was anxious to see how a six-year-old little girl would handle it.

She let go of Grimmjow's hand, took a few steps forward and stood right in front of Yuzu's chair, Yuzu staring at her with that glorious smile.

Nel touched Yuzu's hand, her gap-tooth smile eating her face, "Your chair moves! How come you don't walk?"

Ichigo felt the color drain from his face. Oh god, he hoped Yuzu didn't burst into tears. He saw Grimmjow tense, but Yuzu was…smiling?

"My legs…don't work," Yuzu said, patting her knees, "I c-can't walk…like, um, you? But…I can…move my arms!"

As if to demonstrate, Yuzu started flapping her arms like a bird, making Nel squeal with delight. Nel started doing it too, even jumping up and down, "I wish I had such a pretty chair! I love pink! It's ma favorite color!"

Yuzu giggled, "Me too! Pink isssss best!"

Ichigo and Grimmjow both started to relax as the girls fell into the female ritual of verbal bonding, spouting nonsense back and forth as Ichigo began taking eggs out of the refrigerator and instructed Grimmjow where to find the aprons and the cookie sheets. Yuzu was hell-bent on mixing the actual batter, while all Nel wanted to do was spread the dough on the clean countertop and eat the chocolate chips instead of putting them into the bowl to be mixed into the batter.

"Here, Grimmy!" Nel said, her cookie dough fingers rubbing on Grimmjow's nose. Ichigo stifled a laugh while Grimmjow grinned maliciously at his little sister before attacking her, tickling her into a squealing pile of uselessness on the floor. As soon as she started breathing normally again, she pounced on his leg and refused to let go, which basically led to a playful battle between the siblings, ending with Grimmjow lying dramatically on the kitchen floor as if dead while Yuzu laughed hysterically and Nel babbled something about being the new King of the Beasts.

Yuzu announced that the dough was ready, and Ichigo helped Nel roll the dough into small balls and place them on the cookie sheets after Grimmjow sprayed the cookie sheets with vegetable spray to keep them from sticking.

Ichigo set the timer and Yuzu announced to Nel that she just so happened to have an extensive collection of plushies that were in desperate need of playing with, and the two girls rushed off together, practically best friends already, even though they'd known each other a handful of minutes.

This left Ichigo to wipe up the counters and wash the mixing bowl while Grimmjow leaned against one of the counter tops, boring holes into Ichigo and making him hot and bothered all over.

Thinking about Grimmjow's eyes only made Ichigo think about the rest of his body, which made him think about lips, and thinking about lips reminded him of Gin's apartment, of the confusing situation he now found himself in.

"I didn't think Nel would say something like that," Grimmjow finally stated, running a hand through his disheveled cerulean hair, "I can't believe she said that. She's seen a wheel chair before."

"It's okay," Ichigo smiled, finally setting the dishtowel down and leaning against the opposite counter to stare at him, "She…has an easy spirit, and Nel is sweet. Yuzu's never wrong about the people she befriends."

Grimmjow grinned, making Ichigo gulp, "So what does she think about me?"

Ichigo laughed, "When I told her you were coming over today, she called you Grimm-niichan."

_Dear God_, Ichigo mused, staring at Grimmjow's cheeks, _Did I make the gang banger blush?_

Grimmjow cleared his throat, shifting his feet, "Why?"

Ichigo shrugged, "She really likes you. Or she wants to replace her brother with a new one."

Grimmjow smirked at him, "Well I am pretty unforgettable."

Ichigo scoffed, "Cocky bastard."

"No," Grimmjow let his eyes drag over Ichigo's body, making him shiver, "Just confident."

Ichigo thought he might faint, or throw up. Maybe both. _Is he fucking flirting with me?_

_What do I do what do I do what do I do_, "Thirsty?"

Grimmjow nodded, making Ichigo go to the fridge and rut around, only to be disappointed, "Uh…how do you feel about tea?"

Grimmjow shrugged, "Me and tea are cool."

Ichigo moved quickly, getting the teapot, filling it with water and setting the stove. He went to another cupboard, pulling out little packets, trying to decide, "How about chamomile? Or do you prefer jasmine?"

"Ichi."

"Y-yeah?"

"Thanks for doing this."

Ichigo turned around to stare at him, holding a small box of oolong tea he had just wrestled from the back of the top shelf, "Uh, no problem, I guess."

"I haven't seen Nel like this in…God, forever," Grimmjow mused, staring at the teapot, "Well, unless she's with Yachiru. Those two are complete animals together."

"Yachiru?"

"Kenpachi's daughter," Grimmjow caught Ichigo's eyes, then moved to stare at something else, his arm tensing.

Ichigo saw it nonetheless, "Kenpachi? Is that the elusive Kenny I keep hearing about?"

Grimmjow nodded once, "We're, uh, living with him right now."

"That's cool," Ichigo said, hoping the tea pot would whistle soon. He really wanted something to drink, "I wish I could get out of my house for a while too."

Grimmjow sighed, shuffling his feet as he put his hands in his pockets, "It's, uh, kinda different from that. Actually…"

"Is this why you've been a basket case lately?"

Grimmjow snorted, "Kind of."

"I don't get it. Are you fighting with your parents or something?"

Grimmjow met his eyes, siren blue and melting caramel. There was something tangible in the air; something was happening, Ichigo could feel it shifting. Whatever that something was.

"Sorry, that's none of my business," Ichigo quickly amended, taking his turn staring at the silent teakettle.

"My dad left before Neliel was born. My mom's addicted to pain medications and an alcoholic," Grimmjow gushed, "I had to get her out. We left about three weeks ago. I went back a couple days ago and…she said some shit that messed with my head."

Ichigo kept silent, the moment made more pronounced with the whistling of the teapot. Ichigo moved quickly, adding the tea bags and enjoying the aroma almost immediately. And then he said something stupid, "I wish I still had my mom. You're lucky."

Grimmjow scoffed, "Lucky? You call that lucky? She's pathetic, she's not a mother at all."

"Well, um," Ichigo looked at him for barely a moment before looking back at the finishing tea, "I can't say that I understand your situation, because I don't. I mean, I can't, because I haven't lived your life, but…she's your blood, family, right?"

"And I wish every day that she wasn't."

Ichigo went to a skinny cupboard and removed two ceramic mugs and began pouring the tea, "Do you think things would be easier if she disappeared? If she was dead?"

Ichigo finally looked at him after Grimmjow had been silent for nearly a minute, his eyes looking haunted, "Sometimes I think that, other times I think she can get better, be better. But what she said…I'll never fuckin' forgive her."

Ichigo handed him his mug of tea and stayed silent, knowing there was nothing he could say about the situation to make Grimmjow feel better. He didn't want to push him; he knew better. Grimmjow didn't want somebody to give him advice, give him answers: he just needed somebody to fucking listen to him and keep their mouth shut. Ichigo had never done that for somebody before, but this was Grimmjow, and he hated knowing that Grimmjow was troubled, even if he didn't know the extent of that trouble.

Grimmjow blew on his mug before taking a tentative sip and licking his lips, "Never had oolong before. It's good."

"My favorite," Ichigo offered, blowing on his own before chugging nearly half of it. He drank tea all the time, and call him a masochist, but he didn't mind the burning on his tongue. It was strangely therapeutic, almost cleansing, "High mountain oolong. Relaxes you more than chamomile."

They continued to sip when Grimmjow finally gave in.

"Nel was going to be aborted."

"What?"

Grimmjow set his tea down, his eyes hard, "That's what she told me. She said that she should have had an abortion; she blames Nel for our dad leaving us, leaving her. I don't want anything to do with her, Ichigo. I don't ever want to see her face again, but I don't know what to do, because Nel doesn't understand. She doesn't get it."

Another couple minutes of silence, Grimmjow offering another murmuring of, "I won't forgive her. I can't."

"But she didn't," Ichigo finally offered, unable to stop his tongue, "She didn't do it, Grimm. That's gotta count for something."

This seemed to be a revelation to Grimmjow, so Ichigo continued, "She didn't. Nel was born, and thank god that she was. She's the cutest little girl I've ever seen, and you've been the father she's never had. She's going to have a good life because of you, Grimmjow, but you didn't bring her into this world. Your mom did."

Grimmjow sighed, "You make it sound simple."

Ichigo shook his head in denial, "It's definitely not, but…she's welcome here, whenever you need it. You know that, right? You too. We have a spare bedroom. If you ever need anything…"

Both boys nearly jumped out of their skin as the cook timer blared, announcing the cookies were done. Ichigo scrambled over to the oven with comfy oven gloves, pulling the cookie sheets out and setting them on top of the stove as two giggling girls came rushing into the kitchen, demanding to see how the cookies turned out.

About fifteen minutes, twenty cookies, and half a gallon of milk later, the girls disappeared back into Yuzu's room and Ichigo was scrubbing a cookie sheet as Grimmjow dried the other they had used. The uneaten cookies were piled on a plate to await the rest of Ichigo's family when they got home, and Ichigo had bagged a few in a plastic bag for Grimmjow to take home for Nel and Yachiru.

"I don't think I'm ever gonna get her to leave," Grimmjow mumbled, placing the dry cookie sheet in the dish rack.

Ichigo laughed, "You guys might as well stay for dinner. I'm going to start working on it in about another hour."

Grimmjow looked a little confused, but Ichigo ignored him as he drained the water in the sink and wiped his hands on a dishtowel. When he leaned over to put the other cookie sheet in the dish rack, he had to fight the urge to smell Grimmjow he was so close.

"Ichi."

"Hm?"

"Why are you doing this?"

Ichigo met his eyes, his hands resting on the edge of the sink, "I don't know. It's what friends do, right?"

Grimmjow grinned, "I've known Gin practically my entire life, and I've never, ever baked cookies with the bastard."

Ichigo snorted, imagining Gin in the kitchen much less baking cookies with a fellow tattooed gang member, "Maybe he can't bake."

"I wouldn't trust Gin with a sandwich much less a cookie," Grimmjow shook his head in denial, "Love him to death, but he does not belong in a kitchen."

"Maybe I should bring him dinners sometimes then," Ichigo mused, already calculating in his head, "Can't let the poor guy starve."

"I don't get it."

"What?"

Grimmjow cocked his head to the side, staring at Ichigo seriously, "At school, you act like a robot."

Ichigo felt his eyebrows hit his hairline: _completely unexpected_. Well, this was Grimmjow, after all. He hadn't done anything predictable since they'd met, and Ichigo had to admit it was a small part of his allure.

"You're not like that here. You're more…open," Grimmjow finished, seeming disappointed in his own choice of words, "Like you don't have to impress anybody; it's just you."

"My whole academic career is about flaunting a bullshit exterior; I'm too tired outside of school to try and maintain it," Ichigo half-joked.

"I like you like this," Grimmjow murmured, making the hairs on the back of Ichigo's neck stand up and his stomach lurch. _Don't throw up don't throw up_.

_Say something. Do something!_

"Shit," Ichigo mumbled, knowing his entire face, neck, and ears were burning red.

Grimmjow leaned closer into him, making Ichigo nearly hyperventilate. _Oh sweet mother of God he wouldn't, not again...!_

"I didn't know you had freckles," Grimmjow mused, putting a finger to Ichigo's nose quickly and withdrawing, "Guess you can't see them unless you're blushing like a virgin."

"Sh-shut up!" Ichigo practically yelled, backing away from him and opening a bottom cupboard to remove a pot and pan he planned on using for dinner.

Grimmjow was chuckling mercilessly, "Oh shit, I was just kidding, there's no way you're…seriously, Ichi? A virgin?"

"I said shut up!"

Ichigo nearly ran right into Grimmjow as he approached the stove, not having realized he had moved. Grimmjow was leering at him, but soon his face turned softer, as if he was thinking hard, "Bullshit. You can't possibly be…"

"So what if I am?" Ichigo demanded indignantly, slamming a pan down on the stove, "We can't all be bad ass delinquents that get people to come to them with a crook of their finger!"

Grimmjow chuckled, "More or less."

"Arrogant baka."

"Always."

Ichigo was beginning to regret offering Grimmjow to stay over for dinner when he heard Grimmjow say:

"It's just surprising, is all. I mean, you're smart and you're good looking so I just assumed."

"Will you please just drop it?" Ichigo begged, having moved on to chopping vegetables while Grimmjow hovered next to him, bugging the hell out of him.

"Is it because you've never had the opportunity or…"

"Seriously, Grimmjow, what the hell?" Ichigo said, stopping his blade and setting it down before he gave into his inner demon and stabbed Grimmjow in the eye, "For somebody who's not interested in me, you seem pretty fucking interested in my sexual life."

Ichigo felt like his knees would give out with the smoldering gaze Grimmjow was giving him at that statement, his eyes traveling lazily down Ichigo's body again before coming back to his face, "You fuckin' blush a lot."

"And you're an ass hole!"

Grimmjow's shit-eating grin made Ichigo's heart stutter, "Now you're just trying to change the subject. You're interested in me?"

Ichigo practically blanched, "You didn't get it the first two times we kissed and beat the shit out of each other? What the hell, Grimm? Then you kissed me not once, but _twice_ at Gin's, and now we're baking cookies, drinking tea, and flirting like we'll never get another chance!"

"Why are you getting angry?"

"I'm not!" Ichigo nearly screeched, knowing his face was red and he could have sworn he felt a vein in his forehead explode, "I'm just, I'm SICK of having feelings for somebody who'll never have them for me, but I can't stop being friends with you. I'm a fucking masochist with no self control, and it's all your damned fault because when you're not teasing me, you're making me wish you were."

Grimmjow just stared at him, making Ichigo self-conscious. Well, shit. No, tell him how you REALLY feel, Ichigo. Honestly? What the hell was wrong with him?

Grimmjow's eyes looked to the side before focusing back on Ichigo. He looked away again, then back. It was making Ichigo dizzy.

Finally, Grimmjow ran a hand through his hair before setting his hand on the counter next to Ichigo, making his heart stutter.

"I should want to punch you in the face," Grimmjow admitted quietly, looking right into Ichigo's eyes, his face so close Ichigo could smell his musky, cookie-tinted breath, "if a guy ever said shit like that to me, I'd cut his balls off. What game are you trying to play?"

Ichigo wanted to punch the bastard, "Me? _I'm playing games_?"

"I don't know. I don't get it. I'm not good at relationship shit."

Ichigo snorted, "Friendship isn't that hard, Grimm."

Grimmjow looked away again before sighing, "I didn't say friendship, did I?"

"S-so what are you saying?" Ichigo asked, hoping his heart wouldn't explode and kill him before he understood what Grimmjow was trying to explain. There was no way, just no way in hell that Grimmjow was implying what Ichigo thought he was implying.

"I don't fuckin' know yet," Grimmjow murmured, staring pointedly at Ichigo's lips, "but you're not the only masochist, kid."

_If he kisses me right now, I'm going to die. _

"Stop staring at me like you're gonna kiss me," Ichigo blurted.

Grimmjow moved his face even closer, making Ichigo lean back, but there really wasn't anywhere to go considering he was against a counter. Grimmjow grabbed his chin, making his breath leave his lungs temporarily as his libido fired into high gear.

"Then stop looking at me like you want me to kiss you," Grimmjow grunted, releasing Ichigo's chin and stepping back before turning around and wandering away from the kitchen, calling Nel's name.

**Longest. Chapter. Ever. 8,914 words. 22 pages. Believe it or not, it was longer, but I cut out what I thought was unnecessary for the development between our two troubled teenage lovers. I'm actually thinking I failed in keeping Grimmjow in character (mood swing much?) but I like to believe that I made the teasing/flirting natural? I don't know. ANYWAYS, please let me know what you think, and I will update again very soon. -TPP**


	7. Acquiro

**-Tell Me Tomorrow-**

_'Ain't it funny?_

_We can sneak into our lives undisturbed?_

_Over the perfect things to say_

_And then just choke on the words?'_

**-Chapter Seven: Acquiro-**

Ichigo opened the door to Gin's apartment without knocking, just as instructed. Ichigo had been coming over for weeks now, and Gin had broken him of knocking quite some time ago. He said there was no reason for it, as long as he was expecting somebody, and Ichigo always let him know during school or with a phone call that he was on his way. It was his new favorite place to hang out, especially since he could find Grimmjow here if he wasn't working.

Music played softly throughout the small and comfy apartment, one of Gin's various mixes. Sometimes it was Japanese rap or underground J-rock and pop (Ichigo had laughed hysterically when he found out Gin had a soft spot for T.a.T.u). Other times it was American, everything from the All American Rejects to Slip Knot; from Eminem to P.O.S. Other times it wasn't English or Japanese at all; sometimes Italian and Russian opera or classical music covering the spectrum from Beethoven to Rachmaninoff. Ichigo had never been in Gin's bedroom, but that had to be the source for the music as he finally entered the living room and saw his silver haired friend with his head bent, his legs pulled up comfortably to read a novel in the red recliner. When Gin looked up, he offered a grin and closed it, but not before marking his place just as Kid Cudi's "Soundtrack to My Life" began playing for their enjoyment. Ichigo had to admit although Gin's taste in music was all over the place, he had an amazing sense for lyrics:

_'I got ninety nine problems, and they all bitches_

_wish I was Jigga man, carefree livin'...'_

Ichigo snorted when he saw the title of the work: _Crime and Punishment_ by someone named Dostoyevsky, "Don't tell me, Russian."

Gin chuckled, moving it to the side. Ichigo was also extremely surprised to see him wearing small black-rimmed reading glasses. The few classes he had with Gin he was seated so far towards the front he supposed he never would have seen Gin wearing them, but then again, maybe he didn't wear them to school at all. Actually, come to think of it, whenever he would shoot glances back Grimmjow's way, he had never seen Gin with a textbook open, but in the privacy of his own home, he read books as thick as encyclopedias.

Who the hell was this guy? What eighteen-year-old drug dealer read thick volumes of text in a foreign language by some dead Russian _for fun_?

Not to mention one entitled _Crime and Punishment_. How ironic, considering Gin was a gang member and drug dealer. How many crimes had he committed, and how many times had he been punished?

"That any good?" Ichigo teased, nodding towards the text Gin had put to the side.

Gin shrugged, "The first few times seem dry, but ya learn somethin' new every time ya read it. It's kinda like a puzzle."

Ichigo noticed a black leather bound notebook on the coffee table in front of him with small, slanted handwriting in Japanese, the margins filled with interesting anecdotes in English. Ichigo felt like he had just walked into an alternate universe. Gin's grades were pretty high in school, but he never talked in class or offered an answer to a teacher. If he devoted so much time to independent study…

"Where are you planning on going to college?" Ichigo asked spontaneously.

Gin just shrugged again, "Don't know. Haven't applied anywhere."

'_I've got some issues that nobody can see_

_and all of these emotions are pourin' outta me_

_I bring them to the light for you_

_it's only right_

_this is the soundtrack to my life_

_the soundtrack to my life ohhh...'_

"What about the college placement tests?" Ichigo was being nosey, but it just didn't make sense for someone as smart as Gin not to have a few schools set up. The college placement exams had been held the summer before their senior year, only a few months ago. Ichigo had received his results just a week before being jumped in the alley, the packet revealing twelve different colleges interested in him.

Gin ran a hand through his hair, moving _Crime and Punishment_ to the coffee table to cover the notebook scribbled full with notes, "Are ya hungry? I'm starvin'."

Ichigo didn't want to drop the conversation, but Gin had basically spelled it out for him that the topic was closed and not available for further discussion. This puzzled Ichigo, but it made him wonder about Grimmjow.

What colleges had Grimmjow been accepted to? Was he even planning on college? What would happen when senior year was over? Would he ever see these people again? Would they keep in touch, or would they all fade away into their own separate spheres of life?

It made Ichigo want to panic.

They had found a place in his life, and he didn't want to see any of them go away. Well, he wouldn't exactly be heartbroken over Nnoitra or Shirosaki, but Gin had become a friend and Grimmjow…Grimmjow was so much more, somehow.

Ichigo took Gin up on his offer for food and they made their way to the small but cozy kitchenette, happy to fix up some ramen while Gin readied tea. Although Grimmjow had told Ichigo that Gin was a terrible cook, he made some amazing tea. Ichigo had offered Gin his cooking services some time ago, and the silver-haired fox had happily complied, so whenever Ichigo came over, they would talk as Ichigo prepared simple meals. Whenever there were leftovers from Ichigo's family, he'd offer them to Gin at school the next day, getting the fox's undying love and devotion for feeding him.

"How have you survived this far?" Ichigo laughed, poking at the ramen with chopsticks to see if it was cooked thoroughly, "Seriously, man. Last time I was over, I thought you were going to burn the house down."

"I usually grab take out," Gin chuckled, blowing on his cup of tea. Ichigo couldn't help but grin at Gin's tea set: it was classic British, with little saucers for the cups and everything. It was white with small, pastel blue flowers painted along the sides, and Gin held the cup by the ring on the side, looking dignified as he took another sip before daintily setting it back on the saucer. Seriously, Ichigo wondered how this kid had been raised.

After announcing that the ramen was ready, ladling it out, grabbing the tea and getting comfy in the living room, the apartment door flew open with a cackle like a hyena echoing down the hallway.

"Ya damn brat!" Nnoitra threatened, appearing in the hallway with Shirosaki in a headlock, "Ya want me 'ta break yer fuckin' neck?"

Shirosaki was still cackling as he stopped struggling and dropping his weight, making Nnoitra's lanky form fall with him from the surprise. Nnoitra, thoroughly pissed at this point, was trying to put Shirosaki into some wrestling hold on the tile floor, Shirosaki still screaming like a little kid on the playground.

"Cut it out," barked Grimmjow, appearing not far behind them, holding a bag of what Ichigo hoped was beer in one hand and his cell phone in the other. Ichigo licked his lips as his eyes traveled Grimmjow's tall form, wearing his signature jeans and fitted v-neck tee, this one white with black Gothic lettering in Spanish. Ichigo assumed it said 'Drop dead sexy beast' because that was exactly what Grimmjow was portraying at the moment. His hair looked darker from water and was pushed back off his forehead, flooding Ichigo with images of the delinquent in the shower, naked.

"Lil' fucker tried 'ta drop-kick me on mah way up the stairs!" Nnoitra hissed, still refusing to release a flailing Shirosaki.

"Ahahahaha!" Shiro protested, still giddy as Nnoitra finally released him, "Ne, Nnoi, ya know I'd never really hurt'cha."

"Che, yer still a fuckin' ass hole."

"I smell ramen," Shirosaki sniffed a few more times, ignoring Nnoitra and zeroing in on Ichigo and Gin's unfinished bowls, "Please tell me there's more where tha' came from!"

"On the stove," Ichigo announced, making Shirosaki fly off the floor like he was on a sacred mission. Nnoitra followed, mumbling something about not having eaten all day while Grimmjow chose to sit next to Ichigo on the black leather couch, their knees brushing as Grimmjow began pulling the cans of beer out of the plastic bag he had brought, "After today's history test, I thought we could all use one…or ten."

"Amen 'ta that!" Shirosaki crowed, coming back into the living room with a bowl of ramen, his demonic eyes settling on Gin, "Ne, nerd-muncher, yer still wearin' yer glasses."

"Ah," Gin removed them slowly, folding them up and setting them on top of his novel and journal before moving the whole pile over to the bookshelf to avoid having his beloved friends spilling ramen and beer all over them, "Fergot."

"You should wear them all the time," Grimmjow said, cracking his beer open with a grin, "They make ya look smart for once."

Shirosaki and Ichigo laughed, Nnoitra coming in and bitching about having missed the joke.

The friends sat around, drinking and eating, some smoking. Some smoking cigarettes, others weed, but Ichigo stayed away from that. He didn't think he was ready for pot again. The others teased him about it, everybody but Grimmjow. That secretly made Ichigo happier than he should have been.

After several hours of bullshitting, watching a wrestling match, and playing a few rounds of Mortal Combat on the Playstation, Nnoitra bid adieu, Shirosaki bailing several minutes after, claiming he had a 'hot piece of ass that needed to be tapped'. Ichigo had shook his head when Shirosaki left, not able to help comparing the albino demon to a playful dog. He was spontaneous, fun, and had no filtration system. He was more fun-loving than scary, as Ichigo had come to realize over all their time together.

Ichigo had just finished his fourth beer and was feeling the buzz as he continued to battle Grimmjow on screen, confident in his skill while Gin smoked from the recliner, an amused spectator.

After Grimmjow claimed victory and the game was paused, a ringtone beat started up, Ichigo and Grimmjow looking over to Gin who was pulling a blaring cell from his jeans pocket:

_'You don't know me_

_but you'd like to_

_Why'd you think I stood beside you?_

_Not concerned with how this might fall_

_Nature become prowl at nightfall...'_

"Moshi," Gin answered, listening intently, his eyes slits and his face blank of emotion, "Hai," followed by a chuckle and a sigh, "Watashi wa rikai shite. I understand. Hai…hai. Ne, yah. Gimme twenty minutes. Ja ne."

Gin smiled at his two friends before standing and stretching, "Ne, I gotta go out 'fer a bit. I'll be back late. If ya leave, don't ferget ta' lock up."

When Gin disappeared to his bedroom, Ichigo whispered, "What was that about?"

Grimmjow locked eyes with him, "Do ya really wanna know?"

Ichigo felt guilty as Gin came back out a couple minutes later, having grabbed a white hoodie and his wallet. He revealed his ice eyes, looking pointedly at Grimmjow before leaving with a wave of his hand and a farewell. Ichigo studied Grimmjow's face for several minutes afterward as he turned off the Playstation and began channel surfing, "A drug run?" It had sounded pretty business-like to Ichigo.

Grimmjow snorted, "Nah. Not on Thursdays."

"Then what?"

Grimmjow grinned at him, making Ichigo's cheeks redden instantly, "My guess? He's off to fuck his new favorite, and he thinks he's doing me a favor in the process by leaving us alone. Ever heard the expression 'kill two birds with one stone'?"

Ichigo gulped in a lungful of air, his brain fuzzy. Dammit, he shouldn't have had those beers, especially when Grimmjow was making him burn all over, "Wait, wha? Who? He has a favorite?"

Grimmjow laughed, a big laugh that made goose bumps race along Ichigo's legs, "I'll give ya one guess."

Ichigo blinked, "I have no idea. Gin knows everybody."

"I'll give ya a clue, then," Grimmjow said, leaning towards Ichigo like he was going to whisper in his ear, "He sure as hell won't be working on a chemistry project tonight."

Ichigo's eyes widened, his mouth forming into an O of shock, "N-no fucking way!"

Grimmjow was laughing maniacally as he opened another beer and practically shot-gunned it, "Sure as shit, berry. All I know is, as soon as they became lab partners, Gin can't stop smiling whenever someone mentions chemistry class and that Shuhei kid looks at him like he wants to slit his throat. That's how all of Gin's partners act. At first, anyway. Then they fall hard, and that's when Gin bails."

Ichigo could feel his blush working over his ears and his neck, "I-I didn't know that…uh, Gin, um…"

"Was gay?" Grimmjow offered helpfully, setting his beer can down on the coffee table, "He doesn't like labels, but I've only seen him with two girls in my whole life, and that was in middle school."

"Wow," Ichigo thought back to the night at the club, with that busty redhead rubbing all over him, him grinding back like he was enjoying it, "He seems like…I mean, at the club…"

Grimmjow shrugged, "A lot of people know, especially with him being ex-Reaper, but he doesn't want to make us feel uncomfortable in public, I guess. Shirosaki and Nnoitra act cool with it, but they're pretty homophobic."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

Ichigo cleared his throat and wished he had another beer in his hand, "W-what do you think?"

"About homophobes?" Grimmjow said, laughing with his eyes, "Or being gay?"

"Both."

Grimmjow shook his head, but he was smiling, "You're a riot, Ichi. Seriously."

"Just tell me, dammit!" Ichigo demanded, his temper flaring.

Grimmjow shrugged, "I don't care. He's my best friend; it's not my business who he fucks. Stark plays the fence too, so I guess I've never thought about it."

Ichigo's eyes nearly bugged out of his head at the prospect that Stark wasn't a straight up lady's man, especially since when they had met, he had been with a girl hotter than some of the super models Ichigo had seen on TV, "Damn, really?"

Grimmjow nodded once, still in thought, "I guess it doesn't matter, really. You can't fuckin' help who you're attracted to."

There was a stretch of silence. Ichigo was still staring at him, his heart nearly beating out of his ribcage as an infomercial played on TV, Grimmjow's head finally turning to stare at Ichigo again.

"You can't help it," Grimmjow repeated, and Ichigo could have sworn his eyes lingered on his lips.

_Oh God oh God oh God you idiot._

"Fuck my life," Ichigo murmured, crossing the distance between them on the couch and practically melding his face to Grimmjow's. Grimmjow flinched against him, but Ichigo was persistent, biting on Grimmjow's bottom lip to antagonize him.

_Stop it stop it stop it go away. _

Ichigo fought a squeal of hysteria as he felt Grimmjow's hands snake into his hair and pull him closer, his tongue hot against his own as they began to suck face like the horny teenagers that they were. Ichigo was already hard, and when he shifted again, his knee brushed against Grimmjow's crotch and he felt a jolt of excitement run down his spine at the contact. Knowing that Grimmjow was just as excited as he was made him have hope.

_Is this happening? This isn't happening. No way no way no way._

"Shit," Grimmjow growled, breaking it off and pushing Ichigo's chest away, "Jesus, what the…"

"You said it doesn't matter!" Ichigo defended, his fingers still in Grimmjow's hair, "Fuck, Grimmjow, stop playing with me! You know I fucking want you, you stupid bastard."

Grimmjow looked offended before he finally laughed, "Everybody wants me."

Ichigo had only been this angry a handful of times in his entire life: he was making _jokes?_ He knew his skin had to be about the color of a tomato as he put his hand over the bulge in Grimmjow's pants and squeezed, making Grimmjow's eyes open comically wide, "You want me too. I know it. So just cut the bullshit and stop pretending."

Grimmjow grabbed Ichigo's wrist and carefully pried his hand away from his jewels, his face looking flushed as he took a new breath, "Calm down. Just chill."

"I can't!" Ichigo ranted, pulling away from Grimmjow and standing up, pacing like a caged beast, "It's been _weeks_ since we've talked about this! I can't even look at a cookie or a cup of tea without getting hard, you stupid bastard. And I was so mad that you didn't kiss me in my kitchen that I thought I'd teach you a lesson and ignore it, continue to be the vizard friend you want so much, but you keep teasing me! I'm not stupid, you blue-haired bastard. Every time you brush past me, bump shoulders, touch my hand when you pass a paper in chemistry…when we did microscopes, you were practically raping my ear with your breath, and…you keep giving me these eyes…you're fucking undressing me with those goddamned, perfect blue eyes and it makes me…it fucking makes me…"

Grimmjow stood up, and grabbed one of Ichigo's wrists with one of his hands, making Ichigo freeze.

Grimmjow's eyes were liquid heat, "I'm a lot of things, Ichi, but I'm no tease. You don't know what I think about you, so don't assume shit."

Ichigo tried to pull his wrist away, but it was half-hearted. He was enjoying the simple contact too much, his wrist prickling with fresh goose bumps, "You mess with my head. I don't know what to think anymore, because you either kiss me or you push me away."

Grimmjow's grip tightened, making Ichigo wince, "I don't know what we're doing. I've never felt this out of control. I can't sleep without having you in my head; I can't jack off without thinking about your stupid brown eyes. Jesus, Ichi, I haven't fucked in three months; I haven't kissed anybody but you."

Grimmjow finally let go, allowing Ichigo to shake his hand and work the circulation, both boys staring at anything but each other. The TV was still playing commercials, advertising some sappy Japanese love drama. Ha, how appropriate.

"I don't know anything either," Ichigo finally admitted, looking at Grimmjow with a serious face, "I've never wanted anybody before. This is new to me too, so…can't we just…fucking…_try_?"

Grimmjow ran a hand through his hair before rubbing his eyes.

"I won't tell anybody," Ichigo heard himself saying, hating himself for sounding somewhat desperate, "I won't. I promise. I swear…"

Ichigo was cut off by Grimmjow, who had put a hand around the back of Ichigo's neck and pulled him in, claiming his mouth with a vigor that made Ichigo's knees tremble. His arms finally regained enough feeling to move, running up Grimmjow's sides, pulling him closer. Grimmjow bit at Ichigo's lips, making him open them enough for him to slip in his sinful tongue, making Ichigo mewl in the back of his throat as he pushed Grimmjow towards the couch.

Grimmjow fell back, disconnecting from Ichigo's lips only long enough to grunt at the sudden decent. Ichigo straddled his hips with mindless abandon, his mouth back on Grimmjow's before he could think.

_Don't make me stop don't make me stop. _

**XXX**

_Stop stop stop_. Grimmjow's mind cried, making Grimmjow grunt out loud as Ichigo's tongue continued to caress his. Grimmjow felt heat spread from his core, blood beginning to pool in his groin and making him moan. He'd had a few beers, but he knew he was doing this all on his own. Of course there was nothing wrong with liquid courage, but Grimmjow would need a lot more than what he had consumed to call this a drunken mistake.

_It's no mistake. You don't want mistakes. You don't kiss mistakes. You don't get hard for mistakes_.

"Fuck," Grimmjow gritted, his hands running quickly along Ichigo's thighs and making him shiver. His hands never stopped, moving to cup Ichigo's ass and making him moan, which made Grimmjow's dick twitch. _Shit, this was bad._

If things continued, which he knew he wanted them to, he'd end up fucking the virgin berry on the cold tile of his best friend's living room. Obviously he had never slept with a man, but he'd heard enough from his drunken reveries with Gin to make an educated guess.

"Grimm," Ichigo murmured, his fingers twined so hard in Grimmjow's hair that he grunted in discomfort and pleasure. Everything the berry was doing, from his hands in his hair to the soft rocking of his hips was turning him on.

It was the berry's hips that were beginning to make him think like a Neanderthal. His dick was absolutely pounding, screaming for him to do something, anything, to relieve the pressure.

Grimmjow enjoyed the kiss Ichigo offered him, Grimmjow's hands on Ichigo's face, holding him there before pulling him away slightly.

**XXX**

"Pull it out," Grimmjow commanded, his hands falling on his own jeans and unbuttoning them.

Ichigo scooted back slightly on Grimmjow's legs, his ass hanging precariously on Grimmjow's knees. He was mesmerized, confused, baffled, so caught up in the moment he stuttered, "W-wha?"

"Your cock, dumb ass," Grimmjow said, unzipping his own pants and pulling his dripping cock free.

Ichigo's brain finally focused enough to have his fingers pull at his own jeans, his fingers twitching so badly Grimmjow finally got annoyed and unzipped his pants for him. Ichigo cried out when Grimmjow's hand reached in and grabbed his length roughly through the slip in his boxers, pulling his own dripping length out. Ichigo bucked forward, scooting closer as Grimmjow tried to stay composed enough to hold their dicks together in one hand.

"Oh god," Ichigo whined, his hands now on Grimmjow's shoulders, his fingers digging into the hard muscle, "Oh shit oh shit…"

"Gotta get off," Grimmjow chanted, beginning to pump their cocks together, unable to help his hips rocking against Ichigo's, "I gotta…we gotta…"

"N-nah," Ichigo rasped, his hands pulling on Grimmjow's face and bringing him in for a sloppy kiss, biting his lips as Grimmjow increased the speed, "G-nah, Gr-Grimmjow, Jesus, what…"

"Shut up," Grimmjow commanded with a husky moan that made Ichigo's toes curl, "Just shut the fuck up." The edge was coming, so close…

Ichigo instinctively gyrated his hips, trying to create more friction as Grimmjow continued the brutal pace, bucking back as they both breathed heavily.

Ichigo's eyes were practically rolling in the back of his head as he continued to run his hands over Grimmjow's shoulders, down his chest, anywhere.

Between the friction of the jean material and Grimmjow's hand, Ichigo finally came, screaming Grimmjow's name. Ichigo's body contorted, his head against Grimmjow's shoulder, panting into Grimmjow's ear.

**XXX**

_JESUS FUCKING CHRIST._

He had expected Ichigo to cum before him. After all, he was an inexperienced virgin, and Grimmjow had always thought that he wasn't much for a masturbator either. He had expected a lot of things, but one thing he had not expected was to cum from Ichigo's voice and rough panting in his ear.

The berry had screamed, _screamed_, his name as he came, making Grimmjow's fingers tighten convulsively over their cocks, Ichigo's cum coating his slickened hand and dirtying the fronts of their jeans.

He had been on the edge then, had expected a bit more time, but when Ichigo's head had fallen on his shoulder and his lips had brushed against his ear, he could feel his balls tighten, and when Ichigo had gasped and panted as he road out his orgasm, Grimmjow had been taken over the edge. Ichigo let out another moan as Grimmjow's hips pushed forward and he let go of their cocks, their cum mingling and dirtying both boys' clothes.

Ichigo finally sat up shakily, his hooded honey brown eyes unfocused, his golden freckles dusted across his cheeks with the blood that had accumulated in his face from the heat and the need. He sucked on his bottom lip before licking his lips.

_HOLY MARY MOTHER OF GOD HE'S BEAUTIFUL._

**XXX**

Ichigo ungracefully fell to the side, scooting onto the other side of the couch, leaving Grimmjow's crotch feeling cold and sticky at the sudden loss of heat. Both boys sat there, heads pressed against the back of the couch, trying to slow their breathing as they stared blankly at the still-running TV. That had felt like an eternity but couldn't have lasted more than six minutes.

Grimmjow finally shifted, his eyes traveling the room for tissues or something to use to wipe up the mess they had both found themselves in. To avoid looking at him, Ichigo got up and wandered off to the small bathroom, grabbing toilet paper and feeling like a two-dollar whore.

He zipped up and dabbed at the dribble of cum that had stained the front of his jeans, his cheeks getting hot. It had really happened. He'd really…he'd really…

"Fuck," Ichigo turned the faucet on and splashed water onto his face, staring into the mirror for a moment before splashing more water onto his face.

_I did it. I had sex. I had sex with Grimmjow Jaegerjaques._

Maybe more experienced people didn't consider it much more than group masturbation, but to Ichigo, it was like his virginity had been taken from him. Stupid, yes, but he felt that way all the same. He had only masturbated a handful of times in his life, and most of those times had been after kissing Grimmjow for the first time. He didn't count wet dreams, because those were Grimmjow's fault too.

He'd been in the bathroom for nearly ten minutes. He couldn't hide in there forever. He wanted to, but he knew it wasn't practical. Gin would ask too many questions.

With a deep sigh, he flushed the toilet for Grimmjow's ears sake and left the bathroom, wandering to the kitchen for a cup of water before reappearing in the living room, not surprised to see Grimmjow clean, sitting in the recliner, his eyes focused intently on the television. He'd obviously changed the channel. Some samurai movie. A lot of blood. Lots of guts. Lots of violence and manliness and testosterone.

There'd been plenty of manliness and testosterone just a few minutes ago, but apparently Grimmjow's fragile state of mind needed reassurance.

Had it really only been a few minutes ago? Ichigo felt ancient.

He ran a hand through his hair, taking a seat on the couch before remembering he was sitting on the side that had confirmed his sexuality and initiated him into the world of sex. He scooted to the other side, sipping his water unsteadily as he tried to think of something to say.

Nothing was said.

When the credits appeared to signal the end of the movie nearly an hour and a half later, both boys heard the door to the apartment open and close. Gin looked at the two boys, his grin faltering. Ichigo's face lit up in embarrassment, wondering what Gin was thinking. Obviously he wasn't pleased that the boys weren't at least sitting next to each other. Maybe he had expected to walk in on a make out session. Or worse.

"Ne, did'ja boys have fun?" Gin called from the kitchen, rutting around in the refrigerator for a beer.

"Lots," Grimmjow confirmed, looking over at Ichigo with a guarded expression, "You know I love you for your cable."

Gin chuckled, taking a seat on the couch with Ichigo since it was the only other seat available besides the floor. Ichigo tried not to fidget at the realization Gin was sitting _exactly_ where Ichigo had moaned and writhed like a desperate secretary. Ichigo wondered if Gin would feel the heat from the spot, like he'd be able to sense the sexual energy that had been created there.

Gin just looked at Ichigo before taking a long pull from his beer, his eyes revealed. Ichigo didn't want to try and interpret the smirk. It was impossible for Ichigo to control his blush, so he looked away from Gin's perceptive gaze.

He thought he was going to die when Gin laughed, staring at the television, "Yah, cable. Right."

**XXX**

Both boys left around midnight after Ichigo had gotten a call from a worried Isshin. Ichigo had reassured him that he had lost track of time and was on his way home at that moment, claiming to take a cab to be safe at such a late hour.

Gin had seen them out, telling them he'd see them at school in the morning and disappearing back into the apartment to enjoy some peace and quiet.

Both boys walked along the sidewalk with their hands in their hoodie pockets, the weather cold but not devastating, bone-chilling cold that came in January. December had just started, which reminded Ichigo that he didn't know Grimmjow's birthday day.

"Your birthday's in December," Ichigo mused.

"Yah. The twenty-sixth."

"That sucks," Ichigo replied, still not looking at him, "The day after Christmas."

Grimmjow shrugged, "Makes no difference to me. Holidays and birthdays have always sucked for as long as I can remember."

They were strolling like they had a purpose but weren't in any hurry to fulfill it. To be honest, Ichigo felt like sprinting home just to get away from Grimmjow and the awkwardness that had been created between them.

When they reached Ichigo's neighborhood, he finally cracked.

"So, um, about what happened…" Ichigo began, rubbing the back of his neck.

Grimmjow sighed, "Sorry."

"What?"

"I kind of lost it," Grimmjow said, looking up at the dark, inky sky, "and then I was a dick afterward. You can punch me if ya want."

Ichigo smiled like an idiot before snorting, "Baka. You think you're the only one who lost it?

Grimmjow looked at him, the corner of his mouth turning up, making Ichigo's veins hum, "Lost what? I was fourteen when I lost my virginity, Ichi."

"Fuck you," Ichigo said, shoving his shoulder while Grimmjow laughed, "You're a real ass, you know that?"

"Always, Ichi," Grimmjow said, making them walk forward again, only a block away from Ichigo's house now, "It's part of my charm, ne?"

"Whatever."

"You know you love me," Grimmjow said playfully, ruffling Ichigo's hair and making him scowl.

"Shut up," Ichigo commanded, pushing his shoulder again. That comment had made butterflies explode in his stomach like fireworks.

Ichigo tried to ignore the fact that they were standing in his yard, his front door feet away when he turned towards Grimmjow and contemplated kissing him on the chin.

"See ya," Ichigo said thickly, hoping his voice hadn't cracked.

Grimmjow nodded, hands in his jean pockets as he watched Ichigo walk to his door, insert the key and step inside without another look back.

**XXX**

Ichigo had finished taking a shower, had gotten into some comfy pajamas and had nearly passed out on his bed, delightfully exhausted when he heard his cell phone vibrate on the side table. Groaning and slightly agitated, he grabbed it and flipped it open, his stomach twisting into knots:

_ICHI –_

_WE REALLY GOTTA FINISH THAT CHEMISTRY PROJECT. WHEN THAT'S DONE, WE CAN FIGURE OUT THE OTHER CHEMISTRY._

_-G_

That night was the best dreamless sleep Ichigo had ever had.

**XXX**

Stark took the offered cup of sake, clinking it against the Old Man's. Stark knew his real name, of course, but that was the name everybody called him by. After all, he was getting up there in age, and his real name tended to strike fear into the hearts of even the most bloodthirsty Yakuza. He had been surprised, to say the least, to receive a call from one of the Old Man's subordinates. Nobody had heard from the Old Man in years. Many even believed he was dead. Maybe he had wanted it that way.

"So Mr. Coyote," the man grumbled, his voice sounding like crashing boulders, "What do you think about my proposal?"

Stark took another sip of his sake, ignoring the man's cigar smoke, "I think you've got some familial issues to work out, Old Man. I can recommend an excellent therapist."

The Old Man laughed, a genuine laugh that was kind of rare for the old Yakuza don. He puffed on his cigar a moment, his eyes dark as marbles, his dark tanned skin like stretched leather around the black orbs, "Shot my last therapist. No help at all."

Stark set his sake cup down and leaned back in his chair, the upscale lounge dark and barely lit. Stark had been escorted in by two seasoned Yakuza bodyguards, both of them looking capable of breaking Stark's neck with their stares alone. He ran a hand through his thick brown hair, wishing he was back home at his flat, taking some bong hits before going out to find a decent fuck. Oh well. Life was never fair, "Your plan...I have to admit I like it."

The Old Man chuckled, blowing smoke directly into Stark's face, "You're the best hit man in the city. I trust this will be done efficiently and quietly."

Starkk pulled out Lilynette, his custom silver Berretta 92SF and firing it into the corner before the Old Man had a chance to drop his cigar. Of course he didn't: he was a seasoned retired Yakuza don who had seen more guns than a soldier. Starkk didn't have to look to see that he had killed one of the two body guards, an expert shot through the forehead. Too bad the employees of the shady establishment would be cleaning up a spray of blood that had accumulated on the wall behind the man as he slid down it, eyes unseeing. The other body guard had pulled a weapon, pointing it at Stark when the Old Man held up a hand to stop him. The body guard finally complied, putting it away, a furious look on his face as the Old Man stared hard into Stark Coyote's grey-blue eyes.

The Old Man sighed dramatically, "Now what was all that about? He was one of my best."

Stark locked his gun, running his hand along the fancy black script along the side that proclaimed 'Lilynette Is In Heaven Now' before sliding it back into its hiding place, "You honestly think I'd go anywhere near you without knowing your pawns? That man was a gopher for the Bureau of Investigation. He was my target for the evening."

The Old Man began guffawing, stubbing out his cigar in front of him in a crystal ash tray, "Ah, Stark, I didn't think I could be any more impressed with you. You'll be necessary in the resurrection of Hogyoku."

Stark narrowed his eyes, "That wasn't the deal."

"It's a shame. To lose someone like you, with your talent...I could give you all the power you could ever want."

"If you want me to kill your meglo-maniac nephew and restore the Hollows to you," Stark said, his voice dangerous, "You will agree to my terms."

The Old Man chuckled softly, removing a disposable cellphone from his expensive suit pocket, setting it on the table, and sliding it over to the hit man, "If that's what you truly wish, then so be it. I hope you realize that you might not make it out of this alive, especially with you being one of his most prized dogs. Aizen has always been a manipulative cunning bastard. I just wish I had killed him when I had had the chance."

Stark took the cell phone and put it in his pants pocket, standing up simultaneously and bowing slightly to the Old Man, "I've been waiting years for such an opportunity."

"That's right. He killed your family, did he not, all those years ago?"

Stark locked those memories deep inside: he was usually a lazy, unconcerned oaf, but when it came to business, he was as cold-hearted and calculating as the rest of them. He had to think like a machine now, a killer now, to make sure everything ran as smoothly as possible. He knew he was taking a great risk. He'd be stupid not to realize that. He had injected himself into the Hollows all those years ago for a purpose, had become an excellent marks man and had earned Aizen's trust for the sole reason of being his destructive end. As long as Stark had Aizen's blood on his hands, the rest didn't matter. Stark had been too young at the time to remember the man's face when that gun had fired, killing his little sister, his mother, and his father. His father had been a rat for a rival gang and had gotten his entire family killed because of it. But Aizen was a sadistic psychopath and had a tendency to always leave one victim alive. How lucky had Stark been that day. Although Aizen hadn't been the one to pull the trigger, he had ordered his cronies to do so, which Stark had learned as he had gotten older and started getting his fingers into the underworld. Aizen had just made himself dictator of the Hogyoku back then, a famous drug cartel gang that he renamed the Hollows and plunged into absolute chaos. There was still order, but at least when the Old Man had been in charge, it had been honorable. Now they killed and stole and cheated for the sheer thrill of it.

And now, twelve years later, he'd finally have a chance to send the cocksucker to the deepest pits of hell where he belonged.

"I'll keep in touch," the Old Man said, leaning back in his chair looking smug, "I have a feeling that you won't fail. A man bent on revenge is more dangerous than a woman scorned."

Stark zipped up his leather jacket, knowing the weather was bitter this late evening, "Of course, Baragan."

I cracked. I just HAD to have something physical happen between them, I couldn't take it anymore. I felt so bad for Ichi. Hopefully I made it even a tad bit believable? I didn't want immediate, life-changing answers…and Gin. Have I mentioned that I love Gin? Well I do. As for Stark...well, this is a drama, so maybe I went a little crazy there, but I do have a plan now. Kind of. Don't worry. Review? Please? Pretty Please?


	8. Sancti

**-Tell Me Tomorrow-**

_'Ain't it funny?_

_We can sneak into our lives undisturbed?_

_Over the perfect things to say_

_And then just choke on the words?'_

**-Chapter Eight: Sancti-**

The next several days were spent perfecting their chemistry project, which Ichigo was confident they would get an A on. The experiment was a success, the logbook was immaculate, and the report was college level.

Ichigo had expected it to be awkward when they met up again, but he'd been surprised at how easy it was to fall into a pattern of schoolwork and sarcastic joking that was common in their friendship. Grimmjow had been coming to his house, but the final night of the project to make sure everything was perfect and ready to go for the oral presentation the next day, Grimmjow had invited him to his current home.

The apartment complex was upper scale in a decent part of town with clean streets. Ichigo felt a sense of pride; Grimmjow had been giving him little pieces of information regarding his 'old life' in regards to his mother. They hadn't exactly been heart-to-heart conversations, but Ichigo would take anything he could get. The more he learned, the more they grew. Or at least, that's how he saw it in his head. He knew he was expecting a lot. Possibly too much, but he couldn't help it. Grimmjow was quickly becoming irreplaceable, and that scared and exhilarated the hell out of him. And what Grimmjow had told him about Las Noches made Ichigo happy, even a little bit proud, that he had gotten out of such a threatening situation with his little sister and was trying to work things out to the best of his abilities while staying in school.

He approached the front stoop, seeing the black 11 marking the building and knowing he was in the right place. He rang the doorbell once and waited.

And waited. He rang it one more time, then knocked.

The door flew open and Ichigo thought he would piss his pants.

A giant of a man was standing in the doorway, looming through it, leaning his head out to stare at Ichigo with grey eyes so intense he felt like he was being cut with blades. Ink black hair looked naturally messy and went past his shoulders and a long, thin scar marking the side of his face that appeared to have been a knife wound of some kind. Ichigo couldn't get over how HUGE the man was, so big in fact, Ichigo could see that he would have to bend over to get through the doorway. Easily six foot four, the man continued to stare at him.

The hair on the nape of Ichigo's neck stood on end as he barked, "You think I'm deaf? Don't make me break your fingers. And who the hell are you?"

Ichigo was about ready to turn tail and piss himself in the process when he heard ecstatic, screeching noises that could only belong to a little girl followed by loud music from what Ichigo assumed was a television. It sounded like…Chappy Bunny Play World? Yuzu watched it on occasion and Ichigo recognized the beginning anthem tune.

Confused, Ichigo watched the huge man sigh and turn slightly to yell, "Yachi! Turn that down!" He turned back to Ichigo, nearly making Ichigo jump, "Jesus, kid, ya just gonna stand there all day or are you coming inside?"

"A…are you…Kenny?" Ichigo heard himself ask, unable to imagine such a kiddish name for such a huge…fucking _HUGE_…and _INTIMIDATING_…_Jesus this man could eat me alive_, "Grimmjow. I'm looking for Grimmjow."

The giant man sighed again, stepping back to allow Ichigo to pass by, "The name's Kenpachi, but call me Zaraki, or Z. Fuck, whatever ya want as long as it ain't Kenny. My daughter started that infuriating nickname, and I never want to hear you say it again, got it?"

"Y-yes sir," Ichigo seriously wanted to check his pants at this point.

"Chill out, kid," he said, smiling at Ichigo in what could only be a shark grin, "I ain't gonna eat'cha."

He turned down the hallway, yelling up a stairway, "G! Your boyfriend's here!"

Grimmjow appeared a minute later, a pissed expression on his face, "Go fuck yerself."

Kenpachi just laughed, a bellowing laugh that made Ichigo jump again, his nerves severely rattled. He needed to get away from this man, pronto.

"Don't matter," Kenpachi said, looking at Ichigo again before smirking at Grimmjow, "He's blushing enough for the both of ya. Dinner's in an hour."

And with that, the man disappeared into what Ichigo assumed was the living room, using a stern voice on someone named Yachi. There was giggling and Ichigo heard Nel laugh. He didn't know how little kids, especially little girls, could be happy around such a scary looking guy.

"Hey," Grimmjow offered, nodding his head towards Ichigo as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Ichigo tried not to study him too closely, but he couldn't help himself. Grimmjow was usually dressed casual, but today was a casual even Ichigo had never seen. Dark blue gym shorts and a long-sleeved grey t-shirt. To be honest, he looked like he had just rolled out of bed, if there was any indication from the rumpled look of his clothes and his orgy-inducing blue hair being pushed in every direction.

"H-hey," Ichigo practically whispered, looking worriedly at the hallway that led to the living room.

Grimmjow smirked, punching Ichigo playfully in the shoulder, "He acts big and tough, but he's really a pushover."

Ichigo nodded once, not convinced, his arms now folded over his chest. The apartment's heater was on thankfully, but he was still a bit cold from the walk. Jeans, a red t-shirt with a white collared shirt to cover with a white hoodie had been enough for the increasing cold of December, but his body had never been good at holding heat.

"Come on," Grimmjow said, turning back up the staircase, "The only quiet you're gonna get around here is in my bedroom."

The chill immediately left Ichigo, replaced with a raging blush that crept to his ears and the back of his neck as he mounted the stairs behind Grimmjow and walked down the short hallway to the first door on the left. They stepped inside and Ichigo couldn't help but be unsurprised.

The room was small, very small, and impersonal. A bed with white sheets, white walls, an empty-looking desk and a duffel bag in the corner that was overflowing with clothes. His signature blue Converse were near the bed and his school bag was resting on the desk, probably having been thrown there when he'd gotten home that day before he had changed his clothes and passed out for a nap. Ichigo tried not to stare at the rumpled white sheets as he took a seat on the beige carpet floor, folding his legs beneath him as he opened his messenger bag and removed the project portfolio they had been putting together.

Grimmjow got down on his haunches, staring at Ichigo so intensely that Ichigo couldn't help but finally give in and look at him, doing his best to look annoyed, "What are you doing?"

"You still cold?" Grimmjow asked, looking concerned.

"N-no."

Grimmjow shrugged, "If ya need another shirt or something…"

"I'm fine."

Grimmjow's eyes danced across Ichigo's face, "Then why you shaking?"

"I'm not," Ichigo defended, knowing he sounded like a petulant child, "Can we finish this now?"

Grimmjow smirked before sitting cross-legged in front of Ichigo, brushing his hand over the portfolio and making Ichigo nearly hyperventilate as their fingers brushed against each other, "Absolutely."

**XXX**

The rest of the hour was near torture. As close to torture as Ichigo could ever get, and he wasn't thoroughly convinced that it wasn't real torture because he was beginning to feel like he was actually being driven mad.

They'd finished the lab charts and the pie chart with the statistics, which had only taken a handful of minutes and they'd checked and re-checked the report itself. When it was all said and done, they sat sitting in the nearly empty bedroom, staring at each other and wondering what the other was thinking.

"It's done," Ichigo announced, feeling slightly stupid.

"Yah," Grimmjow replied, leaning his back against the side of the bed, his knees pulled up with his arms resting there. Why did every move the man made make Ichigo's heart race?

"So, what are we gonna do?"

Ichigo didn't know how his heart wasn't beating right out of his chest and doing the watermelon crawl across Grimmjow's carpet, "About the bacteria petri dish experiment next week? I was thinking of several different fungi that might result in the…"

Grimmjow's slow smile stopped Ichigo's words, making him stare at Grimmjow like a complete moron. He was pretty sure his mouth was just hanging open, ready to catch flies.

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about us."

"What us?"

"As in _we_. As in…you know," Grimmjow ran a hand through his hair, moving his leg to the side, "What do you wanna do about it?"

Ichigo snorted, "_Do_ about it? I think that's fairly obvious."

Grimmjow lifted a slim blue eyebrow, waiting for Ichigo to continue.

Ichigo ran a hand on the back of his neck, massaging it slightly and knowing it was burning a brilliant red, "I like you. You like me. According to modern social conventions, I believe the most brilliant course of action would be to partake in the cross-cultural ritual known as _dating_."

Grimmjow's smile made Ichigo's heart melt, the leer absolutely breathtaking, "You askin' me out, Strawberry?"

Ichigo's heart was pretty much in his throat, "No, I'm making fun of you."

Grimmjow laughed, his eyes sparkling. Ichigo had thought they had been getting lighter lately. Was that possible? "You're always sarcastic when you're nervous."

"Am not."

Grimmjow smirked, "Never dated somebody before. Ever. You?"

Ichigo shook his head in denial, unable to break eye contact with the blue-haired delinquent. _God I just want to attack him and kiss him and lick him and..._

"Then we ain't dating," Grimmjow decided, smiling, "Since neither of us know what the hell we're doing."

"Screw that," Ichigo scoffed, "You're gonna ask me out on a date, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, and I'm going to say yes, and then we're going to make out, and you're going to love it as much as I will."

Grimmjow's eyes flashed with heat, accompanied by a disbelieving look, "So you got it all figured out?"

"Of course not," Ichigo said, looking slightly offended, "but I think we're past the point of pretending we've got nothing going on between us. Face it, Grimmjow, you're into me. And if I'm into you, I don't see what's holding us back."

"Maybe the fact that I'm straight?"

"Maybe you're bi," Ichigo said with a shrug, "Why does it matter? You're the one that told me you can't help who you're attracted to."

"But I _don't_ like guys," Grimmjow huffed, "I only like you."

Ichigo stiffened, trying to hold himself back from tackling the object of his sexual frustration. Grimmjow's face morphed, like he just realized he had admitted that out loud.

"Fuck, I mean...shit," Grimmjow put a hand over his eyes and rubbed them, then focused his cerulean eyes on Ichigo's toffee ones, "I'm broke. How the hell am I going to take you on a date?"

"Can I kiss you now?" Ichigo said breathlessly, his brain neurons concentrated only on the driving need in his brain.

He didn't wait for an answer. Rather, it was an uncontrollable tackle that he had been contemplating earlier. Grimmjow grunted as Ichigo's weight hit him, his mouth opening and Ichigo took that beautiful moment of opportunity to delve his tongue into Grimmjow's mouth.

Grimmjow finally began to react, instantly trying to gain control of the kiss and Ichigo let him. Grimmjow's hand moved to cup the back of Ichigo's head, and Ichigo took that as an invitation for his own hands to roam. Call him aggressive, honestly he didn't know what was possessing him, but he was so tired of holding himself back. He was always careful; always had plans for everything in his life. He had schedules, rules, lots and lots of rules and fences and chains. Grimmjow was the one thing in his life he didn't have to be careful around; the one person in his life he felt he could be his true self and be selfish and indulge.

At least that's what he kept telling himself as he tried straddling Grimmjow's hips and nearly shook right out of his bones when Grimmjow groaned at the change in positions.

Ichigo's hands were on either side of the bedside now so that he could balance, Grimmjow's hands resting on Ichigo's hips as they kissed lazily. This was the first time, ever, that they had simply just enjoyed each other. There was no hurry, and it felt fucking amazing to admit it to each other not only with words, but with their bodies. Grimmjow seemed very relaxed, which Ichigo hadn't anticipated. Ichigo had expected him to be aggressive, possibly sadistic as he had a penchant for teasing, but right now, Ichigo was in danger of having his heart melt for the thousandth time with the man as he kissed lightly, beautifully, like it was a fucking art and he was a bloody artist making love to his canvas.

Ichigo shivered at the thought: making love? Fuck, they weren't nearly to that level yet, but the possibility sent shivers running down his spine and made his stomach and groin feel full and hot.

He'd never know how far they would have gotten, because the next second was filled with a voice like booming thunder:

"COME ON, BOYS! TIME FOR DINNER!"

If Ichigo hadn't already been in Grimmjow's lap, he probably would have jumped into it. His arms were wrapped around Grimmjow's neck tightly and he was breathing heavily, not only from the kiss but the sudden attack of Kenpachi's voice through the wooden door.

Grimmjow carefully and slowly began to unwind Ichigo off of him, trying really hard not to laugh, "Alright, Z. We're comin'."

Grimmjow pulled Ichigo to his feet, adjusting the front of Ichigo's hoodie so that it was straight again and not as rumpled, "Try not to look completely debauched at the dinner table, alright?"

"Fuck you," Ichigo blushed, following Grimmjow out his bedroom door.

Grimmjow snorted, ignoring that comment as they headed towards the small dining room area. The table was meant for four, but a folding chair had been pulled up and another place setting set. Kenpachi's voice boomed from the kitchen and a giggling Nel emerged with a bubblegum pink-haired girl that was practically jumping off of the walls as she raced to her chair at the table before noticing Ichigo and beaming at him, "HELLO! My name's Yachiru. I'm six and my favorite color is yellow!"

Ichigo couldn't help but chuckle; little kids were a complete riot, especially little girls. Girls talked a lot when they were older, so it was no surprise that they packed an entire conversation into one second when they were little, "It's nice to meet you, Yachiru."

She smiled really wide before telling Nel that she had to ask Kenny for milk if they wanted to drink it for dinner. Nel ran over to Ichigo, her eyes bright as she smiled and hugged his leg, "BERRY-TAN! HELLLOOOOOO!"

"Heyya, Monster," Ichigo addressed, patting her green-blue head. He still didn't know why she had such a nickname, considering she was probably the most well-behaved little girl he'd ever met, but Grimmjow had explained that it had stuck to her from about the time she was one. He'd explained that she had been a total beast, a monster as she had gone through her teething stage, only to be outdone through her walking stage and her exploratory stage which had resulted in cutting her own hair and coloring all over the walls, not to mention she used to wear her food instead of eat it. Whatever. Ichigo still thought she was uber-adorable.

"I'm so glad you came to our house!" Nel said, throwing her hands up in the air like she was on a rollercoaster, "So glad! Grimmy said that you were coming today, but Yachiru wanted to watch Chappy Bunny Play World and I got…uh, what's that word?"

"Distracted?" Ichigo offered, smiling at her in her attempt to sound educated.

"_Yes_! Dish-trackled!" Nel exclaimed, turning and taking a seat at the table next to Yachiru. Grimmjow took a seat and Ichigo was just about to sit down next to him when Kenpachi said, "That's _my_ seat, kid."

Ichigo jumped back like he'd been shocked while all four of them laughed at him. Dammit, he didn't like this guy at all!

"Just kiddin'," Zaraki amended, putting two platters down on the table that had Ichigo's mouth watering. Roast beef with vegetables sat on one while the other was a steaming platter of sticky white rice. Who knew the scary psycho was such a good cook?

"Wow, Kenny!" Yachiru praised, clapping her hands while Nel joined in, "This is gonna be so yummy! Good job, Kenny!"

"What happened to _Daddy_?" Zaraki huffed, taking a seat and hunching his massive, wide, and muscled shoulders. Ichigo could see the muscles rippling under the black t-shirt and shivered. This man could probably tear him in half. IN HALF.

"Momma calls you Kenny. Why can't I?" Yachiru pouted, and it was so cute, Ichigo couldn't help but smile. It faultered when he realized this pink-haired little fairy creature called this behemoth _daddy_. Ichigo almost felt sorry for her. There was no way she'd ever get a date when she was older if anybody ever caught sight of Kenpachi.

"Because your momma lives to make my life a living hell," Zaraki mumbled, earning himself a kick under the table from Grimmjow.

"Language," Grimmjow mumbled under his breath, making Ichigo laugh while Yachiru and Nel laughed like chibi hyenas.

The dinner was delicious, Ichigo getting two helpings because it was so good (and Kenpachi had pretty much threatened him to eat more). Of course he had obliged and Grimmjow had that stupid toothy grin on his face practically the entire meal while Yachiru blabbed about bumblebees and Nel threw in a few philosophical questions about clouds and other wonders of the natural world and how they effect human life. Ichigo almost regretted getting up from the table. He'd been so comfortable. It made him wonder if this was how Grimmjow felt at his home when his crazy and slightly dysfunctional family asked him to stay for dinner.

Grimmjow started clearing the table while Nel and Yachiru ran off to giggle and play some more while Z announced that the championship kickboxing match was starting in five minutes and disappeared into the living room.

"I'll be done in a sec," Grimmjow announced, carrying the plates into the kitchen and turning on the faucet for hot water, "Go check out the match."

Ichigo looked panicked: no way was he going to be alone with that behemoth Kenpachi, "P-please don't make me."

Grimmjow's smile made Ichigo's heart race, "Fine. I wash, you dry."

Ichigo had never particularly liked doing dishes. It had always just been something that needed to be accomplished, something that needed to be checked off of a rigorous day's schedule. But standing next to Grimmjow, drying plates and cups while the blue-haired delinquent covered his arms with soapsuds had to be at the top of Ichigo's list of relaxing activities. They didn't speak much, but anything was better than being trapped in the living room with a man that Ichigo was convinced could knock him out with his aura alone.

They were done fairly quickly and after draining the sink and wiping his hands off on a towel, Grimmjow rutted around in the fridge, pulling out two beers, "Wanna hang for a bit longer?"

Ichigo nodded dumbly, accepting the beer and following Grimmjow back up to his room.

**XXX**

Ichigo's chest was heaving from loss of breath, his laughter driving Grimmjow absolutely crazy. Crazy in a good way, he supposed. They'd been hanging out in his room after dinner for probably an hour when they had kept talking and started swapping stories. Grimmjow had just gotten done confessing one of his many sins of secondary school that had involved Gin and Shirosaki, his two oldest buddies. They'd gotten into a lot of trouble as kids, spray-painting and tagging nearly anything they had set their mind to, and one experience in particular had left the boys forced to hide in a janitor closet for most of a night because campus security had seen 'hooded miscreants'. Not only had all three middle school boys been shoved into a tiny closet and forced to stay quiet for half the night, Shirosaki had eaten his favorite food for lunch that day, tacos. Gin and Grimmjow still to that day did not partake in that Spanish food due to their seemingly unending torture in the gas chamber that night.

"Your turn," Grimmjow said, taking a sip of his second beer. He'd snuck down and grabbed another one when Kenpachi wasn't looking. Of course he was old enough, but his surrogate father was pretty stingy when it came to his supply of beer and would throw little fits if he noticed Grimmjow taking too many, "Secondary school, something extremely embarrassing; preferably something involving a girl."

"Very funny," Ichigo said, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his head back against the wall. They were both sitting on Grimmjow's bed, spaced far apart for no reason other than to keep from mauling each other. At least, that's what Ichigo kept telling himself.

"Come on," Grimmjow teased, cocking his head to the side with a smirk, "Don't tell me you've always been the prize-winning teacher's pet."

Ichigo smirked back at him, "Not all of us can be wild and crazy hoodlums. What can I say? I was a boring kid."

"Still are."

"Ass hole," Ichigo pouted, making Grimmjow laugh.

"Any story you want, then," Grimmjow offered, feeling lenient. After all, he had to agree with the berry: not everybody had grown up wanting to create mayhem. He'd been extremely dysfunctional, especially after his father had left. He had begun middle school only a year after his father had taken off, making Grimmjow an absolute terror to the teachers and other students. The only ones that had dared to come near him had been his constant companions from the hood. Although Gin hadn't grown up in Las Noches, they'd been friends since the age of seven or eight. Honestly Grimmjow didn't even remember how they had met, but the friendship had stayed until present and he knew it would stay that way for the rest of his life.

Ichigo furrowed his brow, looking at one of the blank white walls, "I only have one from middle school, and it's not very good."

"Try me."

Ichigo took a breath, still staring at the wall, "I had just turned twelve, my first year in secondary. Every student was required to take gym."

He paused, shaking his head, "I don't even know why I'm telling you this story."

"I told you one," Grimmjow pointed out, not getting why the berry was clamming up, "Fair's fair."

Ichigo snorted, but continued, "I was in the gym locker room. We were all required to change there; obviously it was the first time I had ever had to change in front of other people. I changed in one of the bathroom stalls to avoid…you know, being uncomfortable. The other boys started teasing me."

Ichigo stopped again, breathing out through his nose, "One day after gym, the other boys wouldn't let me change in the stall. They grabbed me and I couldn't get away. One of the boys pulled down my pants, asking me why I was always hiding. He said, 'Are you a girl or something? You afraid it's too small?' They were all laughing."

Ichigo ran his hands through his hair, chuckling, "Big mistake, ne? That had never been the reason. The real reason was because if I saw the other boys changing, even taking off their shirts, I'd get hard."

Grimmjow was listening quietly, his face unreadable. Ichigo laughed, "Those were my middle school days, Grimm. Not only avoiding my sexuality altogether but avoiding other students like the plague because they thought I was a freak. My books were all I needed. I guess I still hide in them sometimes."

"Fucking bastards," Grimmjow growled, shifting slightly, "Screw that shit. Why the fuck are kids so mean?"

Ichigo shrugged, "The past is the past. I've never been a pushover, but I didn't start fights intentionally. Karate was a good outlet and I did get in a few fights in later years, but I don't want to make an enemy out of everyone in the world. That's just stupid."

Grimmjow looked at him with something Ichigo couldn't place, "I was really little growing up. Tiny, actually. A runt. With blue hair. So believe me when I say I got my ass kicked, even in middle school, even though I thought I was a punk and I rolled with older kids. But in my last year of secondary, I grew three inches. Bulked out; got into sports. Terrorized. High school was no different, I kept fucking growing, and by that time nobody messed with me."

Ichigo had to admit he was surprised. Ever since he had laid his eyes on Grimmjow, he'd never really considered his past, especially when it came to his body. He had just assumed he'd always been big, always imposing, always cocky. Not having that be the case and knowing that Grimmjow had gone through similar circumstances (minus homosexual feelings) made Ichigo's gut tingle.

"And look at you now," Ichigo said with a smirk, "A big, bad, sexy Sexta."

Grimmjow grinned back, revealing his sharp canines, "Karma's a bitch, ain't it?"

**XXX**

Grimmjow had offered to walk Ichigo home that night and of course Ichigo had accepted. The walk was made shorter by more talking: it was like they would never shut up by the time they got to Ichigo's block. It was getting late and Ichigo knew they had school in the morning, but he just wasn't ready to say goodbye yet. He didn't know how to make the moment last, so he knew he had a frown marring his brow as they approached his driveway.

"Thanks for walking me," Ichigo mumbled, hands in his hoodie pockets. The temperature really was starting to drop. Grimmjow had even changed into some jeans and had thrown on a hoodie before they had left.

"No problem. Thanks for coming over. It was…nice."

"Kenpachi's scary as hell," Ichigo announced, smirking, "Even scarier than you."

Grimmjow cocked his head to the side, grinning sinfully, "Nobody's scarier than me."

Ichigo snorted, surprised when Grimmjow put him in a headlock. He struggled for a second, and all his years in karate had given him a few tips and tricks on how to get out of his current situation, but he didn't want to. Having that heat against his back, Grimmjow's arms around him, even if it was his neck, felt good. Felt right.

"Admit it," Grimmjow husked in his ear, making Ichigo shiver, "I'm the baddest, ne?"

"You're the man," Ichigo admonished, but he was sure to make it drip with sarcasm, "I think somebody's been listening to too much Hollywood Undead."

"They're gods," Grimmjow praised, still not letting Ichigo out of the headlock and singing in his ear, his hot breath making Ichigo breathe unevenly, "_I'm the man and I'm the man and everybody out there knows that I'm the baddest I'm the baddest of them all, and you're just mad, cuz I'm the man and I'm the man and everybody out there knows that I'm the baddest I'm the baddest of 'em all and you just mad and it's sooooo sad…_"

Ichigo took that moment of opportunity to put a strong hand on one of Grimmjow's wrists, finding the pressure point and enjoying the hiss Grimmjow emitted as Ichigo quickly pivoted out and around Grimmjow before dropping his wrist.

Grimmjow was rubbing his wrist now, looking at Ichigo like a kicked puppy.

Ichigo snorted, "What? Don't know your pressure points?"

Grimmjow grinned viciously, making Ichigo gulp, "I know a few."

Ichigo yelped as Grimmjow crossed the distance between them and pushed him against the garage door, his hands on Ichigo's hips, his thumbs rubbing roughly on Ichigo's hipbones. Oh shiiiiiiiiiiit.

Ichigo whined, his hands scratching at Grimmjow's hidden biceps, "Th-that, stop…"

"How about another one?" Grimmjow husked, one of his hands continuing the circles on his hip bone while the other snaked up to Ichigo's neck, the magic fingers beginning to rub soft circles on the soft skin right behind his ear.

"Fuck," Ichigo sighed, enjoying the touching way too much. If Grimmjow didn't stop…

"Mercy," Ichigo finally murmured, his fingers tugging on the front of Grimmjow's hoodie, "Mercy mercy mercy, I give, I give!"

Grimmjow chuckled, his hands stopping their ministrations and making Ichigo whine.

Ichigo covered his mouth, horrified he had whined like that out loud. Grimmjow's face was unreadable, but he was staring like he wanted something. Ichigo's fingers were still holding onto Grimmjow's hoodie, Grimmjow's hands resting on either side of the garage door near Ichigo's shoulders, his head cocked down to stare at his shorter orange-haired…friend? Interest? Boyfriend? Shit, he didn't like how any of those sounded, so what the hell was he?

"Fuck that," Grimmjow mumbled, leaning down and kissing Ichigo on the mouth. Ichigo seemed to sigh into the kiss, making Grimmjow's shoulders relax. He was getting so used to being around Ichigo that he dropped his guard much more than was healthy in his lifestyle, but it felt so damn good. He could literally feel the tension leave his body as they kissed, nipping little ones at first but soon Ichigo was running his tongue along Grimmjow's bottom lip, asking for entrance.

Both boys had seemed to forget their surroundings, kissing for several more minutes before both stopped and stared at each other, unsure of what to say.

"I'm gonna tell Z," Grimmjow announced, moving his hands off of the garage door and taking a step back, "about us."

Ichigo's eyebrows hit his hairline, "What?"

Grimmjow ran a hand through his hair, looking up at the stars before looking at Ichigo again, "Ya don't want me to?"

"N-no, I mean, if you want," Ichigo's face was flooded with heat, his fingers pulling at his own shirt hemline, "I'm just…surprised."

"Might as well," Grimmjow huffed, "How am I supposed to kiss you in his house? He'll never let me live this down."

"He's like your dad, right?"

"Pretty much," Grimmjow rubbed the back of his neck, "and Nel…I kind of talked to her about it."

Ichigo was never going to stop being surprised: was he on Planet Impossible right now? "You told Nel?"

It was dark, but Ichigo hoped that Grimmjow was blushing, "I just asked her if she liked you. She said she likes you a lot. I told her I kissed you."

"WHY?" Ichigo practically whined, not knowing how to react to such information. How could a little girl keep her mouth shut about her older brother's interests?

"She asked me if I loved you," Grimmjow shrugged, "So I told her I'm trying to figure it out."

Ichigo was seriously in danger of going to the hospital if Grimmjow kept this up, "What?"

"Are you deaf or somethin?" Grimmjow asked, cocking his head to the side, "Jesus, I'm trying to figure this shit out and you're just standing here gaping at me like a fish."

"S-sorry."

"You apologize too much."

"Sor – whatever," Ichigo put his hands in his hoodie pockets again, rocking back and forth before deciding he was probably dreaming and he'd wake up any second, warm and snug in his comfy bed.

"I hate the word boyfriend," Grimmjow continued, looking away before looking back at Ichigo, "but I don't know what else to fuckin' call it. That's what we are, isn't it? What this is?"

_I can't breathe I can't breathe I can't breathe._

"That's what I want," Ichigo said, sounding extremely confident despite his rattled nerves. Was his mind in overdrive? Would he crash later and realize what the hell he was saying? "I just…I've always known, and you haven't. We don't have to call it that, I mean, it doesn't matter to me. Wait…shit, it does matter."

Ichigo rubbed his eyes before sliding a hand down the side of his face, "I've never even told my family I'm gay, and you're ready to tell Z…and you've already told Nel…"

"Gin knows," Grimmjow said unhelpfully, "He's always known, that stupid bastard."

"But…we'll keep it quiet, right? Because of the Hollows," Ichigo's voice dropped off at the end, but he offered Grimmjow a little smile, "Your gang mates would give you shit, wouldn't they?"

Grimmjow shifted his feet, "I'm not gonna be with them forever, you know."

"What?"

Grimmjow kissed Ichigo on the temple, pulling away from him completely, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Ichigo gaped after him, all his nerve endings seeming to spark at the same time and shooting up his spine to explode in his brain. Was Grimmjow seriously considering leaving the Hollows? His gang, his literal surrogate family? He was willing to walk away from an entire way of life for him?

_Get a GRIP, Ichigo. He's doing it for Nel. That's it._

Ichigo turned and walked through the grass to his front door, nearly jumping out of his skin when he saw a dark figure sitting on the front steps.

Dark eyes looked at Ichigo, the face menacing.

Ichigo felt terror flood his system, "Karin."

**XXX**

"Good evening," a smooth, deceitful voice said, "How are you, my precious Otouto*?"

Stark bowed his head, like he had been doing for years. It was second nature now, really. He was called Mad Dog by many, but the man before him, this treacherous, disgusting man before him with an insatiable god complex called him his personal guard dog. Many believed Stark to be a wandering stray, doing and saying as he pleased, but he knew that there was a tight collar and a thick chain, and this man held that chain with an iron grip.

"Good evening, Aizen-sama."

"I hope you are well?" Aizen said, setting his noble chin on an elegant hand to stare at Stark across his large mahogany desk, "I have not required your services in some time. It's been too long, really, since I've seen my favorite otouto. Tousen has been keeping me updated on your whereabouts."

"I'm restless," Stark replied, taking the offered chair and adjusting his thick white coat, "To be blunt, Aizen-sama, I'm thoroughly bored."

Aizen chuckled, the laugh never meeting his cold dark brown eyes. Stark had always thought brown eyes to be warm, but this man managed to make them look dead, "I see. Well, I haven't had many targets or enemies needing to be dispatched lately, and I'm sorry for that."

Stark nodded, his fingers itching to touch his gun. Lilynette always gave him a sense of calm when he needed it, "You asked for me, Aizen-sama?"

"Indeed," Aizen opened a drawer in his desk with his other unoccupied hand, pulling out some photos and flinging them across the top of the desk towards Stark. Stark picked up the black and white photos, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Aizen had always been one for theatrics, and now was no different. Instead of just telling him what he needed to be done, he had to show it, and instead of using color film (which was infinitely more helpful in determining the target) he had chosen to have the photos developed in black and white. How artistic.

Especially when Stark realized what the photos were of.

They were older, approximately twelve years old, to be precise. Stark was careful, oh so very careful, not to betray emotion on his face, mentally forcing his fingers to remain steady as he held up the prints of his deceased family.

They were duplicates of the crime scene photos. His father in one, an up close shot of his head, showing the single shot to the left temporal lobe. It had been such a quick and efficient way to die, and Stark resented him for it.

The other photos were much more grotesque. His mother had been stabbed 47 times in the chest and groin before having her throat slit. And his little sister…her throat had been slit after the masked man had finished with her, dirtying his baby sister in a way that made Stark want to vomit and kill every living human being left on the planet. She'd only been eight years old.

And him, twelve, bound and gagged, left in the corner to scream into a rag and cry like a little bitch as he watched his family be slaughtered.

"You're very good," Aizen commented, his head still resting on his knuckles, "No emotion, not a single flicker of regret, remorse, or rage. You are a very interesting dog, Stark. You are so valuable to me. All my other dogs disappoint me time and time again, yet you have always completed your work without complaint or fuss, which is why I do not understand your ridiculous nickname. You're methodical, technical, and barely leave a drop of blood behind. That does not sound like a Mad Dog to me; that sounds like a trained pedigree breeder."

"Why are you showing me this?" Stark asked in a bored tone. He tossed the photos back on the table before leaning back in his chair and yawning, "I don't understand, Aizen-sama. That is my old life. That life is dead, so why should I feel anything for something that is gone forever? Something that I have forgotten like a bad dream?"

Aizen smiled, leaning back in his own chair and adjusting his tie perfectly, "You really are such a good dog. As your master, I'm still intrigued by the mystery you present. So tell me, Mad Dog, how do I make you bark for me?"

"I will do anything for you," Stark said, hating every word that he spoke as if a mantra, "I live to serve you, to uphold your justice to the best of my ability until the enemy is forever rendered silent by my bloody hands."

Aizen chuckled, "Wonderful."

Aizen stood up from his desk, grabbing his expensive coat, "Come, dog, let me buy you a drink."

Stark nodded, standing and following his boss out of the posh office, staring at the back of his head as they made their way to the elevators.

He let a small smile pull on his lips as two bodyguards fell into step behind him. Aizen never went anywhere without at least two guards and he wasn't willing to make an exception, even for his most valuable hit man.

That was a good thing, Stark mused. It meant Aizen was afraid of him.

_And he should be_, Stark thought darkly as the doors dinged closed for the four men, Stark the only one sporting an ensemble of glaring white. How poetic.

Stark couldn't wait to turn his coat and slacks a deep crimson that night.

**XXX**

"An' so," Gin said, his silver pointer stick running along the scientific formula he had written on the board, "a chemical reaction is a process tha' leads to the transformation of one set of chemical substances to another. Chemical reactions can be either spontaneous, requiring no input of energy, or non-spontaneous, often comin' about only after the input of some type 'a energy, such as heat, light, or electricity. Classically, chemical reactions encompass changes tha' strictly involve the motion of electrons in tha' formin' and breakin' of chemical bonds, although the general concept of a chemical reaction, in particular the notion of a chemical equation, is applicable to transformations of elementary particles, as well as nuclear reactions."

Ichigo was quite certain he had just had a nerd-gasm. Being a reading freak, Gin's scientific theory and explanations had thoroughly fucked his brain every way but wrong. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that if he didn't already have a thing going on with Grimmjow, he'd probably have his sights set on the silver-haired fox. Of course his body was sexy, but it was his brains that made him desirable.

Gin was staring at the rest of the small chemistry class, most of them with their mouths hanging open as Gin had carried on his half of the project without using note cards or his paper. Shuhei, in all his Goth-like glory, had rattled off their lab findings and the chemicals they had used and had written a pie graph up on the board and had handed it off to Gin, who had quickly scribbled long, complicated-looking formulas on the board and had proceeded to explain the components and composition flawlessly and verbatim from memory. Most of the presentations had had kids sleeping or staring at the clock, but no one had been ready for a drug-dealing delinquent to get up in front of the classroom wearing a white-collared shirt with a blue-striped sweater vest (that just happened to match his eyes), nice jeans and a pair of white Chucks, not to mention he was even wearing his small black glasses. And a tie. A freaking black tie! Ichigo was sure that not only were the boys in the class taken aback by his brains, the girls in the class were probably sitting in soaked panties by this point.

"Any questions?" Gin asked with his trademark smile, hiding his eyes, which he had managed to keep open for most of the presentation.

Obviously nobody responded.

"Great work, Ichimaru," Yoruichi-sensei applauded, the two boys bowing slightly before erasing the board and sitting back at their lab table, Shuhei's face on fire. Ichigo had never seen the kid blush. Actually, he had never seen the kid have any kind of color at all or expression: he walked around like he was wearing a mask, like his buddy Ulquiorra, the most 'emo' kid in the school. Heaven forbid the kid cracked a smile or even showed irritation. But there he was, blushing up a storm. Ichigo smirked: Grimmjow had been right on the money about those two.

The presentations were in alphabetical order, so Ichigo and Grimmjow got off of their stools and made their way to the front of the classroom, Ichigo organizing a few papers while Grimmjow pulled out his prepared index card, "Let's do this."

"Don't forget to talk about the ionic charge and the surplus of energy being discharged," Ichigo whispered, turning to the board and beginning to write down the two formulas they had used for the project.

"Oh yah, talk _nerdy_ to me," Grimmjow husked under his breath, licking his lips, his eyes completely teasing. Messing with him. Messing with his mind, which was so not fucking cool right now.

_Jesus Christ_. Thank Kami and all his angels that Ichigo had written something down for the presentation because everything he was supposed to talk about for the next ten minutes had just flown out the damn window.

*****PLEASE READ VERY IMPORTANT INFO*****

**If anybody is reading other fics and happens upon a story that sounds like this one, or any of my stories, please let the author know that they are stealing. Seriously, I've come across several stories that sound a lot like this, or Bands & Berries, or even my vampire one and it's seriously disheartening to know people are stealing my mojo. Some of the stories simply steal a concept here or there, but when you're literally taking my chapter titles? O_O (My chapter titles aren't even good!)**

**I would say I'm flattered, but I'm not. There's the saying that "imitation is the greatest form of flattery" but I don't want to be flattered! I have a big enough ego as it is! If you're writing a story and want to use one of my concepts, please let me know! I think it's great that people can get inspired from something I write, but it's really confusing for me as a writer to see another writer take my ideas/concepts and write author's notes saying it's totally original and…it's just too weird and it disgusts me a little bit.**

**My baby Racey is having the same issue, so keep your eyes open for us, okay? If it continues, we'll both stop writing all together, and hopefully you guys like us enough to want more from us in the future. Seriously. We'll stop. I don't want to, but it's become an epidemic and it's just not cool. It's like stealing our magic, or our favorite Pokemon. Wrong, wrong, wrong. See you next chapter (hopefully)! -TPP**

***Otouto: 'little brother' in Yakuza language.**


	9. Satio

**-Tell Me Tomorrow-**

_'But they all didn't see_

_the little bit of sadness in me.'_

**-Chapter Nine: Satio-**

Ichigo threw himself onto his living room couch, sighing heavily and closing his eyes. He was exhausted, his brain on overdrive from school. The chemistry project had gone well and Ichigo was planning on heading over to Gin's in a bit to hang out with the gang. He frowned when he realized he had to work tomorrow afternoon, but he felt a bit better after he realized that Grimmjow would be working as well and they wouldn't have had time to see each other anyway.

Lunch had been like every other day, the group of delinquents picking on and joking with the orange-haired vizard and Ichigo wondered if Grimmjow would admit what was going on between them to his closest friends. Gin was constantly smirking, more than usual, anyway, and it made Ichigo wonder if Grimmjow had clued him in over the phone or through text messages. Gin had pretty much known from the beginning anyway. It didn't bother him. Honestly neither of them really knew what they were doing or what to expect, so Ichigo felt more secure in the knowledge that it was for them to decide together whether to tell anyone or not.

Which made Ichigo remember Karin and the night before:

_"Karin."_

_Karin continued to glare from her spot on the front stoop, her arms folded over her knees, her posture intimidating. It was ridiculous, but Ichigo suddenly felt afraid of his little sister._

_"Karin, say something."_

_Ichigo wasn't stupid. She had seen. She had possibly seen everything, and it was Ichigo's own fault for being so carefree and reckless only moments before. He had known it was stupid, especially when his family was still in the dark as to his sexuality. He had never brought a girlfriend home. Hell, he had never really brought anyone home, friend or otherwise. What his sister had seen would be more than enough to confuse the thirteen year-old._

_She finally stood up, her dark eyes piercing his own, "You're disgusting."_

_Ichigo stiffened and watched his little sister open the front door to the house and disappear inside, slamming the door behind her. His mouth was hanging open slightly, the chilly air stabbing at his lungs._

_He had expected something along those lines, but it still hurt. It HURT._

_Ichigo took a few steps backward, suddenly uneasy to walk into his own home. Anger and shame washed over him, pooling in his belly and making him want to throw up. His little sister had just said he was disgusting. DISGUSTING._

_Disgusting. An adjective. Causing disgust; offensive to the physical, moral, or aesthetic taste. Synonymous with loathsome, sickening, nauseous, repulsive, revolting, repugnant, abhorrent, detestable._

_Ichigo would have rather been hit. He took a shaky breath and walked inside, heading straight for his room. He showered soon after, scrubbing his skin raw as he repeated the word over and over again in his mind._

_Disgusting. Disgusting. You're disgusting._

_Ichigo turned off the water and toweled off, rage leaving a bad taste in the back of his throat. He changed quickly into his pajamas before laying in his bed for over an hour, staring at the ceiling._

_Karin's dark eyes were in his mind, hurting him. YOU'RE DISGUSTING._

_Isshin never came in to check on him and didn't act any differently the next morning, leaving early for the clinic. Ichigo wondered why Karin hadn't told him. It made him feel worse that she hadn't._

_DISGUSTING._

Ichigo opened his eyes, sitting up off the couch and running a hand over his face before deciding he needed a snack. He wandered to the kitchen and had just opened a package of potato chips when he heard the front door open followed by the sounds of a happy Yuzu and her automatic wheelchair.

"ICHI-NII!" she said, rounding the corner to stare lovingly at her big brother.

"Hey, Jitter bug," Ichigo said, ruffling her hair and listening to her blabber on about a coloring sheet she had done at school that day and how she had impressed the teacher. Karin walked in a moment later, meeting his eyes before looking away and adjusting her backpack strap.

"Come on, Yuz, time for your bath," she said sullenly, continuing on her way without another look at her brother.

Ichigo's brow furrowed, suddenly not hungry anymore. He set the bag on the counter as Yuzu's chair chased after her sister, and new righteous anger flared up in him.

How dare she say something so cruel? How dare she judge him?

He didn't want to think about it anymore. He hustled upstairs to grab a thick striped sweater and a black scarf, throwing them on as he descended the stairs two at a time and headed out the door. The crisp cool air made him feel better almost immediately.

**XXX**

"Wha's wrong?" Gin asked the moment Ichigo took his usual spot on the couch.

He hadn't been there more than sixty seconds and already the silver-haired dealer was honing in on his mood, "Nothing."

Gin cocked his head to the side, "Mah, if ya say so."

Ichigo was glad he dropped it, his mind beginning to wander with the soft music that was constantly playing in Gin's apartment, the smell of old books, leather, and bancha tea calming him.

"Ya hungry?" Gin offered, closing a green paperback novel that had been balanced on one of his knees. Ichigo flicked his eyes to the cover. 'WALDEN' by some guy named Thoreau.

"A little," Ichigo admitted, his stomach having regained its appetite from the furious walk over. He always took walks when he was feeling frustrated, and by the time he reached his destination, he was usually a little more relaxed. Gin's apartment was no different. If anything, it was his new hiding place.

"Good. Nnoitra's bringin' pizza," Gin said, folding up his glasses and setting them to the side before stretching his arms above his head, his white vintage tee riding up and exposing a strip of flat waist and a double black ball bellybutton piercing, "Grimm and Shiro are comin' too."

Ichigo nodded, tinkering with the British tea set on the coffee table and pouring himself a cup. It was practically a ritual at this point, "Good job on your chemistry project, by the way."

Gin smiled, "It was fun. Shuhei's a good kid."

"You like him?" Ichigo asked, smiling from behind his cup as he took a sip.

"A lot," Gin admitted, picking up his own cup of tea.

"Have you two…?"

"Nah," Gin said, chuckling, "I guess I'm not his type, ne?"

The conversation was halted as the apartment door opened and a cussing Nnoitra sauntered in with a pouting Shirosaki followed by Grimmjow.

"Back the fuck off!" Nnoitra snarled, trying to balance two large pizza boxes, "Fuck, I told'ya yer not gettin' any until we're all here!"

"We're all here now!" Shirosaki cried, tugging on Nnoitra's shirt, "Come on, have pity! For fuck's sake, I haven't eaten all day!"

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Boys, chill it," Grimmjow commanded, sighing as he ran a hand through his hair and plopped down on the couch next to Ichigo. Ichigo shifted almost nervously as their knees brushed against each other, making Gin smirk as Nnoitra and Shiro carried on dramatically.

After consuming both pizzas, a dozen beers, and three joints and more than several cigarettes, the boys turned on a movie filled with swords, gore, and semi-nude warrior chicks. Ichigo thought he might be physically ill during the two sex scenes, which Nnoitra and Shirosaki whistled at and made derogatory comments. Ichigo couldn't help comparing the leading male to Grimmjow, and the more he did that, the more he felt flustered. His dick was throbbing as he watched the sweat on the man's back on the screen, the camera panning out as the woman moaned in ecstasy. Ichigo didn't care about the woman. It was the man, and all Ichigo could see in his head was blue hair instead of black, tattoos instead of scars, dirty Japanese instead of dirty English.

Ichigo knew his face was hot, but Grimmjow had shifted his leg to touch his, and his arms were draped behind him on the edge of the couch. To the other boys, it looked like he was chilled and relaxing, but to Ichigo, it felt like a glaring bright-lighted sign saying 'Look at me! Look at me! I'm gay for the Strawberry!'

Ichigo excused himself to the bathroom, avoiding Gin's all-knowing grin.

**XXX**

Ichigo sat on the toilet seat, completely disgusted with himself. He'd just locked the door, unbuttoned his jeans and whipped out his cock. He'd closed his eyes, imagined Grimmjow moving like that, acting like that, looking like that, and he'd come so quickly and violently his legs had nearly given out beneath him. A dribble of cum was currently drying on the wall in front of him and dirtied his palms. He had collapsed on the toilet seat, breathing evenly as he stared at the dirty wall.

Grimmjow. Grimmjow…fuck.

He felt his dick stiffen slightly again and he felt a murderous blush creep up his neck and into his face as he held in a moan. No, no there was no way he could get hard again…

Shit.

His fist moved quickly in jerky movements with no rhythm as he tried to pound another one out before the boys began to wonder why he had been in there so long. He could still hear the loud blaring noise of the movie, some kind of action scene. He heard a battle cry and chose that moment to moan out loud, hissing as he dirtied his hands further.

"Dammit."

He stood up quickly and washed his hands, wiping up the wall and circling the bathroom to make sure nothing looked weird or out of place. He flushed the toilet and went back to the living room, a hand over his stomach.

"Drink too much, berry?" Shirosaki leered, knowing full-well Ichigo had only had three beers.

"Fuck you," Ichigo said, making his way back to the couch with a scowl.

"Bet he's constipated," Nnoitra added, lighting another cigarette as blood splattered across the screen and a decapitated head rolled to the side, "Cheese pizza will do that 'ta ya."

Shirosaki giggled with laughter before focusing back on the screen, commenting on how the entrails of a dead body looked fake. Ichigo swallowed: what the _fuck_ would Shirosaki have to compare it to? Had he disemboweled somebody recently?

His cruel sneering laughter at the next death on the screen had Ichigo thoroughly convinced that he never wanted to run into Shirosaki in a dark alley.

**XXX**

They left after the movie, Grimmjow claiming he had to babysit that night for a change and Ichigo allowed about fifteen minutes from Grimmjow's departure before throwing out that he had to finish up some math homework. Nnoitra grunted at him, wondering why he allowed himself to hang around nerds and Shirosaki had left before Grimmjow.

"Be careful, Ichi," Gin said, nodding towards his friend as he placed a cigarette behind his ear, "The streets are scary at night."

Ichigo nodded, surprised at Gin's concern. But then again, if Gin was really concerned, he would have offered to walk him home, right? Or had it been more of a warning? Was he aware of Renji being in the area recently, or was it just the general are being known for creepers at night? It wasn't the worst area of town, but it was by no means the safest either.

But Ichigo was a big boy. He didn't need to analyze Gin's words. He knew how to take care of himself. If he ran into Renji, he'd prove it this time.

The second he was off of Gin's block, he pulled out his cell, pressing speed dial 6.

"Yo," Grimmjow answered right away, "I wasn't kidding. I'm really watching the girls tonight."

"Oh," Ichigo said, feeling like a moron.

There was a pause, and then, "…Wanna come over?"

Ichigo's stomach flip-flopped. It was already eight o'clock, and the girls couldn't possibly stay up too much later due to their day care center and their ages. Ichigo knew Kenpachi was a laid-back dad but he was also strict when it came to health and wellness. That meant…a lot of downtime alone with Grimmjow.

"Yah," Ichigo answered, turning down another street.

"Just got here," Grimmjow said, the line sounding like he had just rattled his keys and opened a door, "just come in when ya get here. I'll leave it unlocked."

"Okay," Ichigo said, feeling desire pool in his groin again.

"Cool." And he hung up.

Ichigo didn't want to admit that he walked much, much faster after that.

**XXX**

Kenpachi had left by the time Ichigo got there, thank the gods. He didn't think he could handle the imposing man when he knew Grimmjow was supposed to be babysitting. Would Kenpachi have cared that he had a friend over, or would he have pissed off?

Ichigo didn't want to find out, and thankfully he didn't have to.

He walked in, surprised at how warm it was inside. The heater had obviously been turned on, and Ichigo hadn't realized how cold it was outside. He quickly shed his jacket, however, afraid of overheating. He'd already removed his shoes and decided his socks needed to go as well. Right when he had righted himself and ran a hair through his rebellious locks, he heard a giggle from the direction of the kitchen.

Ichigo padded over the tile quietly, looking into the small but cozy kitchen and feeling his heart twist again.

Yachiru and Nel were currently sitting on the edge of the rather tall countertop, no doubt able to be up there thanks to Grimmjow. They were swinging their legs while they held small bowls of ice cream, licking at their spoons like little monsters. Grimmjow had just accepted a bite from Nel's outstretched spoon, and Ichigo, in that moment, wanted nothing more than to be that damn spoon.

_God, how pathetic. I'm jealous of a bloody spoon._

Nel held up the spoon again and this time Grimmjow took it, but instead of eating it, he brushed it up against Nel's tiny upturned nose, making her squeal with delight as the chocolate ice cream tingled against her skin.

"That's for getting cookie dough on me," Grimmjow chuckled, taking the spoon again and eating the rest of it this time before announcing that the girl's had had their snacks and were officially ready for bed.

"But Grimmy, we need a STORY!" Yachiru objected, holding her spoon up like a tyrant, "You PROMISED us a bedtime story, you PROMISED."

"Alright alright," Grimmjow said, sighing as he leaned against the countertop near them. Ichigo moved back against the hallway, still unready to be seen.

"Once upon a time…" Grimmjow began, obviously racking his brain for ideas, "There was a beautiful young princess."

"Oh oh! Did she have pink hair?" Yachiru asked.

"No," Grimmjow said, making Yachiru pout, "it was green, a green like the sea. She was a princess of the sea, with grey eyes that shimmered like great storms."

"Wow!" Nel said in awe, "That sounds like…like, ME!"

Grimmjow chuckled, "Are you guys gonna listen or not?"

"Listen! Listen!" they both exclaimed, making Ichigo hold back a snort. They were adorable, even when they were interrupting a good story.

"This little princess of the sea was beautiful, and her laugh was like the sun. Anybody that met her instantly fell in love with her," Grimmjow continued, making one of the girls squeal. Maybe Grimmjow had tickled Nel or something, "but the princess was lonely, because her mother, the sea witch, kept her locked away in a castle, a castle far away from the sea."

"Oh NO!" Yachiru cried, sounding outraged, "That's…that's not right! Grimmy, why would she do that?"

"Because her love had left her," Grimmjow continued, his voice grave, "She had once been a good sea witch, beautiful and strong, filled with life, but when her love left her, she grew cold, her heart shrinking and shrinking until she could not even look at her beautiful princess daughter anymore. So she locked her away and left her, all alone."

"That's…that's so SAD," Yachiru hiccupped, obviously about ready to cry.

Ichigo breathed in through his nose, closing his eyes. He wasn't stupid. Grimmjow wasn't telling a silly fairy tale.

"But it gets better," Grimmjow said, his voice low, like he was telling them a secret, "The princess cried, all alone in her tower, wishing to go back to the sea. She missed her mother terribly, but her mother never heard her cries, but somebody else did."

"A knight in shining aww-mor?" Nel said in her unmistakable lisp.

"Not quite. A beast of the forest heard her crying, day in and day out. He was a scary beast, a ferocious animal that terrified the woods. He was called evil and shunned by the humans, but he had always been alone, so he didn't understand why the princess cried."

"Did he try to EAT her?" Yachiru gasped.

"He had wanted to. He thought that maybe if he ate her, she would stop being so sad. Why live if you are afraid? He went to the tower, scaling the tall walls with his sharp claws. It wasn't easy; it took him a very long time," Grimmjow paused for breath, the girls and Ichigo hanging on his every word, "but when he heard the princess cry and saw her tears, he continued to climb. He wanted to save her, to take her away from the tower and the scary woods. He wanted to take her back to the ocean, where she belonged, where she would be happy."

"Did he make it?" Nel asked, "Did he save the princess?"

"When he made it to the top and crawled into the chambers on his great predator paws, she was not even afraid of him. She smiled at him, welcomed him, and it melted the beast's heart. He took her away from that awful place, carrying her on his back through forests and fields and rocky mountains until they reached the endless sea."

"But what about the sea witch? What did she do?" Yachiru interrupted again, sounding perplexed.

"She was gone. Forever. Her sadness had turned her into mist," Grimmjow practically whispered, but he said it with conviction, "And the little sea princess lived happily ever after in her beloved sea, the beast forever guarding its shores, protecting her for all of eternity, never to leave her alone again."

"WOW!" Nel said, clapping her hands, "That's the best story you've ever told, Grimmy! This is my favorite one EVER!"

"Me too!" Yachiru said dubiously, bowls clattering as they were placed in the kitchen sink.

Ichigo, feeling like he had just invaded something extremely personal, slinked back towards the front door and open and closed it a little more loudly, picking up his jacket and holding it before setting it down again, looking up when he saw Grimmjow had come out of the kitchen, peaking down the hall to see the orange head.

"Hey," he called, a hand on the doorframe of the kitchen, "I'm putting them to bed. You can chill in the living room if you want."

"Who's that? Who's that?" Yachiru and Nel exclaimed, racing around Grimmjow's side to peak at the strawberry.

The girls got excited and ran over to him, fussing over him and asking him a million questions before Grimmjow got them settled down again and walked them both up the stairs to tuck them in. Grimmjow talked to them softly, asking them to keep it a secret from 'daddy Kenny' that Grimmjow had invited a 'friend over for homework.'

Yeah, like two six year old girls were going to keep that under lock and key.

Ichigo was slightly worried for his physical well-being as he pictured Kenpachi getting upset about him being over when Grimmjow was supposed to be babysitting, but realistically, how mad could he get? The girls were going to bed, it would be quiet, and Grimmjow would be bored to tears, right? There, problem obliterated.

It seemed like ages before Grimmjow reappeared again, Ichigo drinking in his simple attire that Ichigo hadn't gotten to see at Gin's thanks to his black hoodie.

A vintage baby-blue tee with white lettering fading off of the front and torn-up jeans with a black belt. He ran a hand over his face as he made it to the bottom of the stairs, yawning, "Ya up for some Playstation?"

"Always," Ichigo said, unable to help smiling at his newest obsession. Grimmjow was quickly becoming dangerously addictive.

"Cool, pick something out and I'm gonna make popcorn," he announced, disappearing into the kitchen while Ichigo busied himself at the living room console, looking at the small stack of games. He assumed most of them were Kenpachi's, as they were all fighting, boxing, and wrestling games. There was a racing one, but they were all games Ichigo had played into oblivion.

To be honest, he didn't really feel like playing.

Well, not video games, anyway.

"Did'ja pick something?" Grimmjow asked a moment later, startling Ichigo and making him turn to stare at the bluenette. He was holding a bowl of popcorn, popping a handful into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully.

"Nah," Ichigo said, getting up and approaching the popcorn bowl and sticking his hand into it and taking some, "To be honest, I've played those games so many times I'd be bored to tears."

Grimmjow snorted, licking his thumb of butter. Ichigo felt his dick stir at the simple motion, "So what? Another movie?"

"Sure," Ichigo agreed.

**XXX**

Grimmjow had put in some foreign film that Ichigo had never heard of. The subtitles were in Japanese, but it was starting to hurt his brain. He had always hated subtitles, and he'd never heard the language before. Grimmjow laughed at the jokes, or what Ichigo assumed were jokes.

Grimmjow looked at him a few times, noticing Ichigo was squinting awfully hard at the screen, "It's a really popular German comedy. S'not so funny in Japanese, huh?"

"That's German?" Ichigo said, pondering, "I was wondering why they sounded so angry."

Grimmjow leered at him, "Yah, it is kind of a rough language. 'I love you' sounds like you want to beat the shit out of somebody."

Ichigo snorted, his face heating up at the thought of Grimmjow saying such sentimental words, "Obviously you understand it."

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, "Didn't figure it out from Jaegerjaques, huh? I'm half Japanese, raised in both languages. My old man was a stubborn bastard, although he did speak in Japanese once in a while because my mother always yelled at him."

Ichigo smiled, imagining a young Grimmjow spouting off nonsense in German and Japanese at school, confusing the kids, "That's cool. I wish I knew more than Japanese."

"You have the highest grades in English," Grimmjow reminded him, surprising Ichigo, "I think that counts, ne?"

Ichigo felt his neck and face brighten, sick of blushing so much in one fucking day. He wasn't some love struck chick, but he couldn't help it when Grimmjow looked at him like that. All deep, like he was staring at something he wanted to understand and possess. Ichigo liked both of those aspects.

"I've seen this movie a dozen times," Grimmjow murmured, turning the TV off with the remote before leaning towards Ichigo, "And they should be asleep by now."

Ichigo felt something akin to panic rocket up his spine as he lost feeling in his legs, "I was watching that."

"No you weren't," Grimmjow smirked, fisting the front of Ichigo's shirt and tugging him closer, "You were watchin' me."

"True," Ichigo admitted, deciding the combination of Grimmjow's too-blue eyes with his scent that was straddled somewhere between spicy and sexy had worked against him.

"You jacked off at Gin's, didn't you?"

Ichigo stiffened, wishing Grimmjow's hands weren't on him, that his breath wasn't in his face and his smell wasn't in his brain and muddling everything up. What the fuck was this? An interrogation?

But why lie? Why, at this stage in the game? There was no point. "Y-yeah. Twice."

Grimmjow lifted a slim blue eyebrow, assessing Ichigo's flushed face, making Ichigo wish he could melt through the couch, which he probably would, if Grimmjow didn't stop staring at him like that.

"I did last night. Four times," Grimmjow said, releasing the front of Ichigo's shirt and making Ichigo want to whine in frustration. Why was Grimmjow telling him this? Were they admitting that they were hot for each other? Well that was obvious. It kind of flattered Ichigo though, to think that thoughts of him had made Grimmjow come four times.

"Every day," Ichigo continued, feeling bold, like they were playing a game of twenty questions, "I imagine you every day, at least three times a day."

Grimmjow's face was unreadable, his weight shifting on the couch as he ran a hand through his hair, "Dammit, this sounds so fucked up."

"But it's true," Ichigo murmured, feeling a bit deflated. They weren't official, although Grimmjow had implied they were boyfriends, he had said he didn't like the sound of it. Ichigo didn't care what they labeled it; all he knew was that eventually they would be lovers. Ichigo had no doubt in his mind that he wanted Grimmjow, wanted his body as much as he wanted his mind, his sarcasm, his intelligence. The whole deal, the complete package. He should have felt like a fool, should have felt a bit of shame, but damn it, he didn't. He didn't feel anything at all unless he was with this blue-haired delinquent.

Ichigo, feeling bold, crawled closer to Grimmjow and carefully brushed his lips against his, shouting for joy internally when Grimmjow sighed softly and kissed back. It built and built, making a familiar tightness coil in the pit of his stomach and groin, his heart thundering like hundreds of horse hooves as he pulled Grimmjow closer to him, allowing himself to fall back as Grimmjow took the hint.

Ichigo arched his back against the seat cushions of the couch as he felt Grimmjow's weight on top of him, his not-so-subtle erection digging into Ichigo's hip as Grimmjow continued to battle Ichigo's tongue. They sucked and nipped, Grimmjow's hips beginning to rotate in small, sensual circles that had Ichigo's blood on fire. One of his legs wrapped around Grimmjow just below his ass, his hips coming up to meet Grimmjow's.

Grimmjow moaned, a guttural animal sound that had Ichigo's heart fluttering faster, their breathing becoming more ragged.

They broke apart for air, Ichigo beyond ecstatic when he felt Grimmjow's tongue trace along his jaw, down his neck and across his pulse point, his teeth beginning to nip as he descended past the Adam's apple to lave at Ichigo's collar bone.

Excitement made Ichigo buck his hips, making Grimmjow hiss as their erections encountered each other.

"Your skin," Grimmjow husked, one of his hands running along his shirt hemline and disappearing beneath it to glide along his ribcage, "Fuck, I wanna lick you all over."

Ichigo moaned as Grimmjow trailed off into hushed German, and for once in his life, Ichigo wished he had learned the language. He was certain that no matter what language Grimmjow spoke, it would be the same, sexy as sin.

Ichigo gasped as he felt his shirt being lifted higher, up to his collarbone, Grimmjow's hands mapping his torso as his tongue descended to one pert nipple. Ichigo undulated his hips, unable to control himself. If Grimmjow licked him like that again, he'd buck him right off of the couch.

No such luck. Grimmjow did continue the assault on his nipples, but his arms were like iron bars, keeping him in place. If he couldn't fight Grimmjow's mouth, he could certainly fight Grimmjow's cock.

He began to rock his hips gently, trying not to cry out as pleasure rocketed through his system. Grimmjow hissed again, his teeth scraping along Ichigo's abs and making him moan.

"S-stop," Ichigo breathed, his voice deep with lust, "P-please stop."

Grimmjow looked at him with dark eyes, "What?"

The authoritative tone in his voice only made Ichigo harder, "We can't…I can't…if you keep…_fuck_."

Ichigo pushed against Grimmjow's chest, suddenly desperate to get away from him. The fire was still spreading, although it was dulled now, like he had turned down the flame on a stove.

"What?" Grimmjow repeated, and Ichigo realized how feral he looked. It was like he had just taken a kill away from a rabid wolf.

Ichigo bit his bottom lip, gaining courage. Fuck, he wanted Grimmjow so bad it physically hurt, but his mind was screaming at him right now that he needed to be very careful. Very, very careful.

His voice was even as he looked at Grimmjow, huffing a breath, "I want you to fuck me."

Grimmjow's eyes went from dark to startled at the flick of a switch, his arms tensing visibly as he hovered over Ichigo. He didn't say anything, so Ichigo continued, "I've never done anything like this before, but I've read about it. I know what I want you to do to me, but I need to know that you want it too. I want you, all of you, and for that to happen, I need you inside me."

Ichigo had expected a lot of things, but the last thing he had expected was a slap across the face.

Stunned. He was stunned.

The physical pain didn't even dawn on him. It was the raw HURT and ANGER that made his head reel. Had it really happened? Sure, they'd punched each other before. Hell, they'd given each other a nice collection of bruises since they'd met and been so confused, but for some reason Ichigo found the slap to be more damaging than anything Grimmjow had ever done before.

_IT HURTS. IT HURTS. IT HURTS. I HURT._

Grimmjow looked more stunned than Ichigo felt; like Ichigo had hit him and not the other way around. He was breathing hard, his eyes glazed, "Sorry. I'm so sorry. Sorry…"

Ichigo batted his hands away, unable to speak.

_IT HURTS. IT HURTS. DISGUSTING. YOU'RE DISGUSTING._

"Stop," Ichigo ordered, managing to shift enough of Grimmjow's weight to roll off of the couch and crouch at the side, trying to find enough energy to inhale. He needed air. There was no air. Why weren't his lungs working?

_YOU'RE DISGUSTING._

Karin had been right. Karin was always right. She was so smart, so so smart. Being disgusting _hurts_.

"I'm sorry," Grimmjow repeated stupidly, finally moving off of the couch and trying to touch Ichigo's arm, "I'm so, so, so sorry, Ichigo."

"Don't. Touch," Ichigo said, slapping his hand, his eyes as hard as diamonds, "Me. Don't touch me."

Grimmjow ran his hands over his face before gripping at the back of his neck, as if stroking the tense muscles there, "Ichigo, please believe me. I…"

"Fuck you," Ichigo growled, noticing the clock on top of the TV. It glowed neon red, the numbers flipping to 10: 58. He couldn't be here. He didn't want to be here.

_I HAVE TO GO. NO MORE HURTING. IT HURTS. IT'S DISGUSTING._

"I didn't fucking mean it," Grimmjow snarled, "Fuck, Ichigo, you don't know shit, you don't know what's in my fucking head. I'm fucking scared."

Ichigo whipped his head around, his face unbelieving, "What'd'you think about me? You think I know everything? You think I'm not scared shitless about you? You could have said no. You could have pushed me away, said anything you wanted, but you _didn't_. You _hit _me and it fucking _hurts_."

Ichigo got up, stumbling towards the front door, his eyes going in and out of focus as he tried to grab his shoes.

"It hurts for me too!" Grimmjow suddenly snarled close to his ear, his chest pressed to Ichigo's back, making Ichigo crumble to the floor. How dramatic.

Ichigo snorted, hating himself. Tears were stinging his eyes like a thousand needles, the tears streaming down his cheeks.

_So HOT. HOT. IT HURTS. DISGUSTING. PAIN._

"Disgusting," Ichigo said angrily, trying to shove Grimmjow off of him, but he wouldn't let go, his arms holding onto him even as Ichigo folded his body forward, his forehead nearly touching the tiled floor. He was on his knees, his head nearly to the floor. He felt like he was praying to an ancient shrine. He closed his eyes and imagined what he would pray for.

_I DON'T WANT TO BE DISGUSTING. I DON'T WANT TO HURT._

"What's disgusting?" Grimmjow asked, not sounding nearly as angry as before.

Ichigo suppressed a sob, his tears forming a lake on the tile, "I am."

"What?"

"I'm disgusting," Ichigo said softly, his breathing all wrong, "Disgusting. I'm so disgusting."

"What the fuck? No you're not."

"She said so," Ichigo said, fighting sudden hysteria, "and she was right."

"Who was right? Ichigo, what's going on?"

Ichigo sat up slowly, letting out a sob and unable to speak. He had meant to, but he couldn't find the words, not when he couldn't breathe. His lungs refused to work properly.

"Oh Ichi."

Grimmjow released his hold, only to mold himself behind Ichigo, his arms wrapping under his arms and clinging to his torso like he would never let go. He rested his head on Ichigo's shoulder, making Ichigo cry harder.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Grimmjow began chanting, rocking them steadily as Ichigo gave up trying to control himself. He continued to cry. He cried until he felt absolutely exhausted. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, but Grimmjow's warmth never left him, and Ichigo felt like the delinquent was the only person binding him to the earth.

**XXX**

He must have passed out because when he woke up, he was lying comfortably on the couch, his head on a green throw pillow. He looked around with stinging eyes, his vision finally clearing enough for him to make out the numbers on the digital clock. 3:49 a.m.

"Oh god," Ichigo sat up, running his hands over his face before hunting in his pocket for his cell phone. His father had probably called the cops by now. He'd never be trusted again. He'd never overstepped his curfew boundaries, even if there was no school in the morning.

He looked around, hoping he had left it on the coffee table, but it wasn't there. Confused, he got up and froze, wondering if Kenpachi had come home to see him in such a miserable state. Where was Grimmjow?

Ichigo shifted from foot to foot, not knowing what to do.

"You're awake," Grimmjow said softly, appearing out of the hallway's darkness and making Ichigo's hair stand on end.

"I need my phone," Ichigo said impatiently, gripping the front of his shirt and twisting it in his hands, "I need to call home."

"I called at midnight," Grimmjow said, holding out Ichigo's cell phone, "You were exhausted. Told him that you were spending the night because it was so late."

Ichigo took the phone, careful not to brush fingers with him, "T-thank you."

Grimmjow nodded, not knowing what to say.

Ichigo decided to ask, "Kenpachi?"

Grimmjow shook his head negatively, "When he, uh, goes out, he doesn't come back until late morning."

"Oh," Ichigo took the hint, wondering who Kenpachi's lover was. He should have figured it out, considering out of all the times he'd been over recently he had never encountered Yachiru's mother, and the one time Kenpachi had mentioned her he had said she lived to make his life a living hell.

Ichigo didn't want to be there, staring at Grimmjow, who had witnessed him have an emotional breakdown. But it was nearly four o'clock in the morning, and even Ichigo didn't want to be out on the streets at that time, even if it did mean getting away from Grimmjow.

If he was being completely honest with himself, he didn't want to be away from Grimmjow. He just wanted to understand Grimmjow. That was all.

"I heard your story," Ichigo heard himself say, wondering where he was going with this train of thought.

Grimmjow looked at him, his arms folded over his chest as he made himself comfortable by leaning his weight against the doorframe, "What story?"

"The Sea Princess," Ichigo said, looking down at his toes, "you're the beast, right? The destroyer, the protector?"

Grimmjow didn't respond, so Ichigo continued, "You're not a monster, Grimmjow. The princess didn't fear the beast, even though he could have eaten her. She trusted him, didn't she?"

"It's just a story," Grimmjow said, his voice thick.

"It's your story. And Nel's."

"Maybe," Grimmjow said, his blue eyes looking almost silver in the partial light.

They stood in silence for a couple of minutes before Grimmjow finally spoke.

"You're not disgusting."

Ichigo stiffened, listening to him speak. He loved his voice. He could listen to it all day.

"I don't know who said that to you, but they're wrong. They don't know you."

Ichigo smiled a thin smile, feeling sick, "She knows me very well. She's my sister."

**XXX**

Grimmjow stared at Ichigo, unbelieving. There was no way Yuzu would _ever_ say something like that to her beloved brother, so that left the dark-haired, silent demon, Karin.

"Why would she say something like that?" Grimmjow said, not letting his eyes leave Ichigo's face.

Ichigo ran a hand over his face, still smiling softly, "She saw us last night. She saw you kiss me. No, what she really saw was her older brother ENJOY a kiss from another boy. She looked so mad. I've never seen her look at me like that before, ever, even when we've had a fight. But you know what's worse? She didn't tell anybody. My dad's still oblivious, and Yuzu can't really understand…"

Grimmjow crossed the room, careful to stay far back enough to not frighten him. Grimmjow wasn't sure if he should touch him, not after what he had done. He was thankful that Ichigo's face hadn't bruised; his insides were churning over the thought. He had felt bile rise in his throat at what he had done. He'd been literally ill after realizing what he had done and Ichigo had pushed away from him to get off of the couch. His mother's words had come to him in that moment.

_"I see Dietrich Jaegerjaques in you, boy."_

He'd slapped Ichigo like his father had slipped him years ago, before he could fight back. He'd never felt so sick, had never wanted to run to Gin's more in his life and ask for the strongest narcotic he had. Of course Gin would never give it to him, but the thought had been there, dark and deep and disgusting.

_DISGUSTING. I'M DISGUSTING._

NO, Grimmjow thought, staring at Ichigo. _I'm not disgusting. He's not disgusting. He's perfect. _

"Don't think like that," Grimmjow said, his fingers twitching to reach out and grab Ichigo's hand, "She's a little kid. She's confused. She doesn't know how perfect you are."

Ichigo stared at him with wide eyes, eyes like a doe in the headlights. Unbelieving eyes. Unbelieving of what he was saying…or unbelieving because it was HIM saying it?

"You're perfect," Grimmjow repeated, finally reaching out and taking one of Ichigo's hands, holding it softly, like he might break the smaller teen, "You're gorgeous and intelligent; you worry about your family more than you worry about yourself. You study hard and ignore your own wants and needs to make other people happy. You're anything BUT disgusting, Ichigo."

Ichigo just breathed, his eyes searching Grimmjow's, his fingers finally gripping his hand more securely.

"Can I stay with you?" Ichigo whispered, making Grimmjow's heart clench in his chest.

God, when had he fallen so hard for the berry? It wasn't just his body, or his eyes, or his wit or intelligence. There was something else, something emotional that Grimmjow couldn't touch, that he'd never had. Not with him mom, never with his dad, not even with his little sister.

_"You're not a monster."_

Grimmjow moved closer, placing his other hand carefully on the side of Ichigo's neck, kissing him softly on the lips, praying that Ichigo wouldn't pull away from him.

Ichigo shuddered against him, making Grimmjow suck in a breath. Grimmjow said nothing, he didn't need to. He carefully pulled away, still clutching Ichigo's hand fiercely, like if he let go, he would disappear. He took Ichigo up the flight of stairs, both of them being quiet as Grimmjow opened his bedroom door and closed it behind them.

**XXX**

Ichigo shifted in the bed restlessly, clad in his boxers and his shirt. He'd just woken from another dream, a dream he couldn't remember now. Grimmjow was snoring softly beside him, his arm tossed over Ichigo, his wrist on Ichigo's hipbone. Ichigo stared at him for a few minutes, willing himself to go back to sleep.

Nothing had happened. When Grimmjow had closed the door behind them, he'd led Ichigo to the bed, sliding in first himself, then waited for Ichigo. Ichigo had crawled in, allowing Grimmjow to hold him close, fold him into his heat. Ichigo had liked that. Liked that a lot. It hadn't been the right time for kisses or fucks.

They hadn't had sex, but what was happening, what was real in those late hours, was so much more intimate, so much more frightening.

Sex was expendable. It was possible to live without sex.

You can fuck and walk away, you can kiss and forget, but you can't hold someone in the late hours of the night, not having the words to express what you mean to each other because you're afraid that it will all disappear in a cloud of smoke and leave you breathless. You can't lay next to someone, breathing their air and holding them close, your chest constricting at the mere thought of ever losing them, because if you do, you're afraid you'll lose a part of yourself. Touching souls: the scariest shit you will ever accomplish in your existence. The few that have done it will probably agree. It's scary, yes, but it's thrilling and new and makes you breathe better and think on a grander scale. You stop worrying about your petty problems and look to that other soul, the other soul that is so much a part of your own that you have trouble distinguishing between the two. Scary. Terrifying. Frightening. _But so worth it._

Ichigo cuddled closer into Grimmjow's side, his forehead practically melding with Grimmjow's chest. He counted Grimmjow's heartbeats, wishing that they could be infinite.

He was so comfortable, so happy. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes and allowing his conscience to rest.

Comfortable. Happy.

About two weeks later, on Christmas Eve, those feelings would be ripped away from him.


	10. Et Patri et Filii

**-Tell Me Tomorrow-**

_'But they all couldn't see_

_the little bit of sadness in me.'_

**-Chapter Ten: Et Patri et Filii-**

Grimmjow rolled to his side, sculpting himself to the other warm body in the bed. He blinked several times, realizing that the strawberry was still with him. He sighed in contentment, hugging Ichigo closer to himself until his morning wood was poking Ichigo firmly in the ass.

"You might want to take care of that," Ichigo mumbled sleepily, his hips moving of their own accord and making Grimmjow groan.

A dull white light filtered through the horizontal blinds of the window, announcing the start of a new day. It was bitter cold, but there would probably be no snow that year. Grimmjow didn't want to move. He was perfectly content here in his bed next to the berry.

His lower body wasn't complaining either.

"Hey," Grimmjow said, his voice still tinged with sleep. Ichigo slowly turned his body to face Grimmjow, his honey eyes making Grimmjow's heart stutter. A shaft of light flickered over his gorgeous orange hair, the few cinnamon-colored freckles that were sprinkled across his cheekbones and the crest of his nose giving Grimmjow the impulse to lean forward and kiss them.

So he did. Quick pecks along his cheeks, making Ichigo close his eyes, his long lashes sweeping across his cheeks. His face was reddening, which only made Grimmjow want to kiss him more.

Grimmjow finally kissed him on the lips, taking his time. Ichigo responded immediately and eagerly, his fingers beginning to run along Grimmjow's chest and down his arms, making Grimmjow groan again, cupping Ichigo's face between his hands.

"Really," Ichigo breathed, one of his hands moving beneath the waistband of the front of Grimmjow's boxers, "You really need to take care of this."

Grimmjow sucked in a breath as Ichigo's hand gripped the base of Grimmjow's cock, nearly making him buck.

"Ichigo," he grit out, grasping at Ichigo's wrist and meeting his eyes.

Ichigo kissed Grimmjow quickly again, his face serious, "Can I?"

Grimmjow breathed in and out through his nose several times, closing his eyes before looking at Ichigo again, "Is it weird that I want you to?"

Ichigo smirked, tightening his grip and twisting his wrist, enjoying Grimmjow's shudder, "We have to start somewhere, don't we?"

"I feel like a fucking virgin," Grimmjow grumbled, making Ichigo smile like an idiot.

_God, if he smiles like that, I don't care how stupid I sound. _

"Lay back," Ichigo commanded, shifting his body so Grimmjow could lay flat on his back, "Just relax. You can tell me to stop if…you don't want me to."

Grimmjow almost scowled, "Baka."

**XXX**

Ichigo lay on top of him, nipping kisses down his face, across his chin, down his neck, making his way towards his breastbone when Grimmjow hummed with contentment. He didn't want to stop. He didn't know if he could stop.

Ichigo had moved his way down Grimmjow's chest, dipping his tongue into Grimmjow's belly button, his fingers scratching at the boxer material. Ichigo had just begun to push the material down when he felt Grimmjow's hand in his hair, pulling slightly and yanking his head up.

"Ichigo," Grimmjow said, his voice husky as he breathed, looking at Ichigo with what could only be worried eyes.

"I want to," Ichigo murmured, placing a kiss at the left hollow between Grimmjow's hip and pelvic bone, "Please, Grimmjow. Trust me."

**XXX**

Trust? As if Grimmjow had ever trusted anybody in his life.

But he couldn't doubt the sincerity in the berry's eyes, in the sound of his words. His cock was aching for attention, straining beneath the confining material, Ichigo's fingers teasing his pelvic bone, so close and yet so far away, his breath actually reaching Grimmjow's cock through the material.

Trust. Trust. He did trust Ichigo. He knew that. And he was aroused; he knew that as well. He knew that Ichigo wanted him, wanted him bad enough to have confessed that he wanted Grimmjow inside of him. He wasn't ready for that, not yet, but he felt almost a sense of relief as he realized eventually that it would happen. Not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not even a year from now, but he would, and he'd enjoy it. He liked everything about the vizard, from the tips of his orange hair to his slim fingers, from his attitude to his sarcasm. He wasn't afraid to fight, so why was Grimmjow afraid to _feel_?

Grimmjow stiffened slightly as he felt Ichigo's fingers move again, tugging harder on the material, his aching cock springing forth. He wanted to be embarrassed, but he wasn't. He should have been running away, but he wasn't.

Grimmjow arched his back when he felt Ichigo grip the base of his cock and take a tentative lick at the head, precum beading at the tip. His hand began to move slowly as if massaging, his tongue flicking out again for another taste. His hot breath huffed out, making Grimmjow's toes curl.

**XXX**

Ichigo was a virgin. He'd never kissed a boy before Grimmjow. Had never really even looked at a boy before Grimmjow, so it was polite to say he had never touched another cock besides his own before Grimmjow.

He hadn't known it would be so…so…simple. The taste, the feel; neither aspect was repulsive. In fact, Ichigo found himself marveling at the weight of it, the heat of it, the way it pulsed in his hand and against his tongue. He grew more bold, taking the head into his mouth and laving it with his tongue before grasping the base more firmly, feeling more confident. His own length was straining as he heard Grimmjow groan deep in his throat, sending shivers down Ichigo's spine. He released Grimmjow for a moment, a trail of saliva stretching from the bulbous head to his swollen lips.

_I want Grimmjow. I love Grimmjow. _

Love. Shit. He should have been freaking out. Maybe he wanted to throw up. The butterflies in his stomach and the throbbing in his cock kept him from thinking too much longer about it.

Fuck it. He was already screwed. In over his head, and he didn't care.

He swallowed as much of Grimmjow's cock as he could without alerting his gag reflex, ridiculously delighted when Grimmjow's hips flexed upwards as he gasped.

"Ichigo," he breathed, making Ichigo even more determined in his task.

He hollowed his cheeks, trying to concentrate on what he thought would feel good. He continued to suck, bobbing his head slightly as he stroked what he couldn't swallow with a hand while his other began to caress Grimmjow's balls.

Ichigo had never heard Grimmjow whine before, and it excited him. He sucked harder, longer, bobbed his head more vigorously until he thought he would choke, Grimmjow's hips trying desperately to bring on his impending release.

Ichigo hummed in contentment, and that was all it took.

Ichigo felt hot cum shoot into the back of his throat and he gagged slightly, unfamiliar with the taste. It was salty, but not exactly bad. It wasn't good either, so he pulled his mouth back slightly, the rest beginning to pool in his mouth. He closed his eyes and swallowed, then swallowed again, his throat constricting. He was surprised how tender his lips felt, like he had been scrubbing them with sandpaper. He grasped Grimmjow's dick carefully, sliding his fingers along the cum and spit that had accumulated and unceremoniously wiped it on his own boxers. He hadn't managed to swallow it all, but he would probably be able to do it the next time.

Grimmjow was still breathing quite heavily, his post-orgasmic face making Ichigo's dick twitch. He was painfully hard, but he knew Grimmjow wasn't ready for that. Not yet anyway. He could be patient.

He tucked Grimmjow's cock back into his boxers and laid down beside him, forced to cuddle close due to the size of the bed. Grimmjow pulled the sheet back over them.

Ichigo just stared at him, wondering how someone could have eyes so blue and be human. They were eyes that belonged to mythology, to the gods themselves. And to think, a few months ago he'd simply been staring at them from across a classroom, trying to understand why he felt so guilty staring at the delinquent at all.

Grimmjow sighed, pulling Ichigo closer to him, until their skin radiated with each other's body heat, "I can't believe you swallowed."

Ichigo snorted. Leave it to Grimmjow to ruin a dramatically romantic moment, "Neither can I."

They had this. They still had that companionship, that easy-going friendship. They could joke, they could tease, but they could also be more than that.

"I almost went blind," Grimmjow complained, making Ichigo chuckle. He slapped Grimmjow's shoulder before they both fell into silence.

One of Grimmjow's large hands fell on the front of Ichigo's boxers, making him hiss. He was still painfully hard and he hadn't counted on Grimmjow noticing.

Ichigo stared at Grimmjow with startled eyes, suddenly feeling awkward and unsure of himself. Grimmjow's face transformed into a grin, one blue eyebrow crooked, "Need a hand, Ichi?"

Ichigo snorted and they laughed together, at least until Ichigo realized Grimmjow had moved his hand through the crease in his boxers and was currently rubbing his palm against a certain tender member.

"S-shit," Ichigo panted, Grimmjow still smiling.

"Why are you _smiling_, ass hole?" Ichigo gritted out, feeling unnaturally violent in that moment.

Grimmjow's eyes sucked him in again, making him shut up, "Shut up, Ichi."

Ichigo had no choice, as his vocal chords seemed to be severed as Grimmjow's hand gripped him like iron and began to move quickly, too quickly as he kissed him.

_I'm on fire. Flames everywhere. _

His hips jerked sporadically as Grimmjow's thumb pressed against his weeping tip, making him whine as Grimmjow's breath was suddenly in his ear.

"Come on, Ichi," he whispered.

And Ichigo came, came so hard when he opened his eyes all he saw was white spots. Ichigo lay there, a puddle of warm goo as he watched Grimmjow retract his hand, staring at the slight bit of cum that had accumulated on his fingers.

Ichigo's eyes widened in shock and horror, his mouth in an O as he watched Grimmjow tentatively take a lick.

Grimmjow's face contorted like he had just sucked on a lemon, making Ichigo bark with uncontrollable laughter.

"That…tastes…" Grimmjow licked his lips despite himself, "nothing like strawberries. Fucking disgusting."

Ichigo had tears in his eyes as they laughed together, Grimmjow shoving him off of the bed and making Ichigo hit the floor with enough force to wake the dead, or at least the neighbors.

The boys were just zipping up their jeans when they heard Kenpachi start raving in the kitchen, making Ichigo flinch.

"Are ya really that scared of him?" Grimmjow asked, looking at Ichigo with a smirk.

"D-did…you tell him?" Ichigo pulled his t-shirt over his head, anxious.

Grimmjow smirked, "Nah. I chickened out."

"What the hell?" Ichigo looked at Grimmjow with wide eyes, slapping him on the shoulder, "And now I gotta…I gotta do the WALK OF SHAME?"

Grimmjow leered at him, stepping forward, holding his face in his hands and kissing him on the forehead, "Come on, Ichi. You have no problem being cornered in a dark alley full of thugs, but one, little old man scares you shitless?"

"Little?" Ichigo's voice cracked noticeably, "Baka, the man could eat me alive! Of all the dads to pick in Japan, why'd it have to be him?"

Grimmjow grinned crookedly, making Ichigo's fears die, "Because he's the best there is. Come on."

**XXX**

"Yachi, if you don't stop feeding butter to the cat, I'm gonna duct tape you to the roof!" Kenpachi boomed, currently holding a small, sleek grey cat with intelligent dark eyes.

"But Pantera loves it!" Yachiru whined, still holding a stick of butter she had rummaged from the fridge earlier as she stared petulantly at the cat her father had just commandeered.

"Come on, hurry up. Your mom's here to take you to day care."

"Hooray!" she squealed, running into the living room area to grab her sparkly pink backpack with Nel on her heels.

A car horn honked from outside again, more impatient, making Kenpachi sigh again as Grimmjow and Ichigo entered the kitchenette, Grimmjow going straight for the fridge and pulling out a bottle of orange juice.

"Bye bye Kenny!" Yachiru and Nel called, slamming the door behind them. Kenpachi went to the window to make sure the girls got to the car all right. He had the urge to flip off his ex-wife, but it wasn't really worth it.

He turned and made his way back to the dining room, plopping down in his usual chair, staring at his untouched pancakes, "So, when did'ja boys start fuckin'?"

Ichigo had just gotten a glass of orange juice from Grimmjow. Now most of it was covering the front of his shirt, as he had gagged and spit it out the second Kenpachi had opened his mouth.

"Since this morning," Grimmjow said with a smug grin that made Ichigo want to punch his lights out.

"How long you been together?"

Grimmjow didn't even look at Ichigo as he answered, "Almost three months."

Ichigo finally took a breath of air, remembering his lungs needed the stuff. So Grimmjow had been paying that much attention? It'd been four months since they'd officially met and three months since their first kiss. Ichigo didn't know whether to hug him or punch him at the moment.

Ichigo felt his legs shaking as Kenpachi cocked his head to the side, his broad shoulders bunching and contracting as he regarded the two teenage boys, his silver eyes so scary Ichigo wanted nothing more in that moment than to melt through the floor and disappear forever.

"And when were you plannin' on tellin' me?" Kenpachi said, digging into his pancakes, "Next year, or after I'm old and blind?"

"You're already old, and I just did," Grimmjow said, shrugging his shoulders, "Ichigo and me are together. Got a problem with that?"

Ichigo had to brace the side of the countertop to keep from falling over. He seriously felt like he was going to throw up.

Kenpachi's face split into a shark-like smile after chewing on a particularly huge piece of pancake dipped in syrup, "Three fuckin' months, huh? Never seen ya with someone for more than three minutes. I'm impressed."

**XXX**

It took days, _days_ for Ichigo to get over how Grimmjow had confronted Kenpachi. The man was still scary as hell, but Ichigo felt a little bit better knowing the man didn't give a shit about Grimmjow's sexual orientation. He'd even admitted to 'experimenting' in college, but he'd given that up to go back to 'reliable pussy.' Whatever the hell that meant.

School was a flurry of exams and students itching to be released for the winter holidays. Ichigo actually allowed himself to be thrown back into his studies, concentrating hard on doing well on the exam so that he could focus on what exactly he would do for Christmas with Grimmjow. It wasn't like he'd asked Grimmjow about it yet, but he was hoping the blue-haired delinquent wanted to spend time with him.

**XXX**

Stark stepped out of the shower, drying himself quickly before wrapping a towel around his waist and wandering into his bedroom. He was angry, and more importantly, he was growing impatient.

His previous plan had failed. Technically, his previous plan had not been able to be performed as he had intended. Complications had risen, and Stark had decided to save the assassination of Aizen for another time, another time when the man was more vulnerable.

A time when he was thoroughly distracted.

Stark pulled out his cell, speed-dialing three.

His trustworthy friend picked up on the third ring. Stark ignored the other male voice in the background. Obviously he was interrupting something, but this was much more important than whatever he had interrupted. His friend knew that.

Stark sighed, running a hand through his wet hair, "I need your help."

**XXX**

Six days before Christmas, Grimmjow found himself standing on that abandoned stoop, sighing. He hadn't planned on coming here again, but his mind refused to be at rest without knowing that his mom was okay. She was a shitty mother but Grimmjow couldn't just abandon her, even though every bone in his body told him otherwise.

Nel had stopped asking. Grimmjow didn't know whether to feel guilty or not.

Grimmjow touched the handle, his brow furrowing when the door pushed open with barely a tap.

His heart sank when he saw the latch had been destroyed. That took a bit of force. Only a solid kick could do damage like that. Shit.

He stepped inside, wary. He walked down the hallway, passing the leaky kitchen and ignoring the odor of rank garbage. He passed a broken chair and shattered glass crunched under his worn out shoes, wondering where it had come from. Some of it was colored, like glass liquor bottles.

"Mom," he called, thankful he had come in the afternoon and not at night so that he could see properly. When he reached his mother's door, it was open.

He stepped inside, controlling his breathing through his nose, trying to stay composed.

The mattress had been sliced and ripped open, the bureau drawers smashed and left broken on the floor. A few floorboards had been ripped out, and the few pictures that had been hung on the wall were now trashed on the floor, the shattered glass looking like dew on smiling faces.

There was no point in looking. She wasn't here.

More importantly, she'd never be back.

She wasn't dead, at least not yet, anyway. She'd left, left before she could be evicted, and some teenage ass holes had decided to clean house, although there had been nothing of value to take. Nothing but empty liquor bottles and a few useless photographs of a life that was a lie.

Grimmjow stooped down to pick up one of the shattered picture frames that had been lying face down, careful to brush the glass away before studying it. It had been his mother's favorite, the only photo that she had ever seemed to care about. Grimmjow had caught her staring at it with a dreamy expression many times when she had been drunk.

Dietrich Jaegerjaques stared back at him, his arm around Grimmjow's mother, her face youthful and exciting. Her long black hair was pulled back and plated, her grey and pink kimono looking inexpensive but appropriate. Grimmjow swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat. They had never had much, but Dietrich had always made sure his wife looked beautiful, at least in the beginning.

Grimmjow didn't stare at the baby in his mother's arms for too long. He couldn't have been more than a few months, his annoyingly blue hair in magical tufts on his head, his blue eyes dark as he stared back at his older self.

"_He loved you_."

His mom's words rang in his ears as he continued to stare at the photo, getting angrier by the second.

"_I see Dietrich Jaegerjaques in you, boy."_

Grimmjow's head jolted up, his mind racing a mile a minute. His mother never kept valuables in her bedroom. If she'd left anything, the delinquent thieves never would have found it, not with how paranoid his mother had been. He practically ran to the kitchen which had also been destroyed. All the cabinets were missing their covers, the drawers lying out on the floor, the refrigerator door hanging open. It didn't matter, though: the power had been out for weeks and there was nothing to eat in it anyway.

He opened the freezer, clawing at the ice box, ripping it out with ferocity. He threw it on the counter, pulling the trap door open, a small clear sake bottle rolling out.

For a moment Grimmjow was confused. It looked like a piece of paper was rolled up inside, like those messages in bottles he had heard in story books that were usually found in the ocean. He popped the cork on the bottle and pulled the paper out, something with weight sliding out of the middle of the rolled up parchment.

He shivered as he stared at the small silver locket, the only jewelry his mother had owned besides her coveted wedding ring. It was a simple rectangle silver locket with an inlaid circle which was supposed to represent eternity, a small cheap green stone glinting within the circle. He had never seen his mother without it. She wore it constantly, her fingers always rubbing against it when she was worried or upset. She'd touch it when she cried. The silver was so tarnished from wear, age, and rubbing that it looked like an antique.

He pried it open, his insides burning as he stared at the microscopic inscription in kanji. It looked like it had been scraped in, not bought or engraved.

Grimmjow read it several times, trying to understand its meaning: Neliel Tu Oderschvank.

Grimmjow dropped it to the counter, stepping back and away, feeling nauseated. He sank to the dirty floor, feeling like his head was going to split in half.

What the fuck does that mean? What does that _mean? What does it mean?_

Angry, he grabbed the rolled paper, his eyes scanning over it quickly:

_Didn't know if you'd come back. I know you're angry. You have questions. But I'm not coming back. I can't think about those things now. Your father gave me this pendant. I've never taken it off until now. I never knew what to put in it until your sister was born. I carved her name into it with a needle after she was born. Your father knew. That's why he left. When that baby came out with sea green hair, he knew what I had done. I ruined us. I was weak. But she's your Nel, after all. You'll never find her father. Trust me. He's gone and buried. It's better off that way, don't you think? The only real father she's ever had is you._

Grimmjow's eyes were burning by this point, but he had to finish it. His fingers were clenching the paper so tightly he almost ripped it in half:

_I'm sorry. I know it means nothing coming from me, but I am. I'm sorry I was a weak wife, a shitty mother. I love you, my baby blue boy. I love you so much that I lost track of who or what I was. What I had done to tear apart our family…I will never forgive myself. I don't want you to forgive me, either. It's the least I can give you, Grimm. You deserve a good life with your sister. I just wanted to tell you the truth, even though the truth was never spoken._

_Do not forgive me. You swore to me that you would make Nel forget my name. Keep your promise, Grimmjow. -Mom_

That was it. That was all.

Grimmjow dropped the paper on the floor, listening to it flutter as he wandered back to his mother's bedroom, his hands on either side of the hallway, his mind numb.

He circled her room several times, staring at the destruction, wondering who had trashed the place like this, why the landlord wasn't here taping the place down and locking shit up. It was empty. It had always been empty, even when people had been living in it.

Lives had been empty.

"Fuck!" Grimmjow screamed, slamming his fist into the dry wall. Anger coursed through his veins. He punched the wall again with more force, satisfied when his fist went straight through the cracked drywall and white powdery dust began to shower him, settling in his hair and attacking his eyes.

He could feel it clouding over his skin, settling in his clothing. He continued to punch, both fists now, destroying the wall until he was nearly driven mad by his father's voice in his head.

_He was eight years old, watching his father punch a wall in one of their many apartments they had lived in. Grimmjow hadn't even flinched. He'd seen his father punch through dry wall several times in his life already. Didn't help that his father was piss-ass drunk._

_He was yelling about something, but Grimmjow couldn't remember. It had to be about bills, about money. Everything was about money, especially since Dietrich loved to gamble. He gambled what they didn't have. He'd pawned his wedding ring a long time ago to pay off a debt._

_"Fuck!" Dietrich had screamed, punching the wall one more time before looking at his young son, his nostrils flaring as he tried to control his breathing._

_"What the fuck are you looking at, boy?" he growled in German._

_"Why are you angry daddy?" Grimmjow had asked._

_"Why?" Dietrich said, coming closer to his son, "WHY?"_

_Grimmjow had whined when his father had grabbed him by the elbows, shaking him, "Daddy, you're hurting me…!"_

_Slap. Slap slap slap._

_"Don't talk back to me, boy!" he spat in Grimmjow's face, finally releasing him. Grimmjow stumbled back, his mother yelling as she came towards the kitchen, her fist raised to strike Dietrich on the back._

_He turned on her, hitting her so hard the sound haunted Grimmjow for days._

_"Shut up!" Dietrich screamed, watching her cower on the floor._

_Dietrich got back in Grimmjow's face again. He must have said something, but he didn't remember now. Dietrich's stale breath assaulted him, making him squirm, "Don't you dare cry, boy. _

_Don't you dare fucking cry. You're a man, not a baby. Don't you dare fucking cry."_

And Grimmjow hadn't. Grimmjow had learned to never cry. Grimmjow couldn't remember a time he had ever cried, and it made him feel extremely ill in his stomach.

The memory ended as he stared at his bleeding knuckles, taking several steps back as his feet crushed more glass. His mother's words were in his head now.

_"I see Dietrich Jaegerjaques in you, boy."_

"No," Grimmjow murmured, beginning to pick up the few photos his mother had owned, "No."

When he had them all, he went back to the kitchen, pulling a lighter out of his pocket and setting them on fire, dropping them in the empty sink. He watched them burn, the smiling happy faces contorting into black, twisted monsters. That was their true faces. That's what they had always been all along.

He had the letter poised for destruction, his lighter hovering, ready.

He shoved the necklace and the letter in his pocket, wandering out of the apartment in a fog.

He wandered the streets until it was pitch black. He didn't know how much time had passed, he didn't care. He needed…he needed someone.

Numbly, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket, realizing he had wandered to the complete opposite side of town.

Ichigo picked up on the second ring, "I was just about to call you. I was, um, well I was wondering if you had plans with Kenpachi's family for Christmas or not, because my dad said it was okay if you wanted to –"

Grimmjow rested against the side of a building, "Ichigo."

Ichigo stopped his rant, obviously picking up on Grimmjow's tone, "Grimm? Are you okay?"

Grimmjow closed his eyes, "Can I come over?"

"Right now?"

"Yeah."

Grimmjow had checked the time on his phone. It was nearly midnight. On a school night, no less. He had no business disrupting Ichigo or his family at a time like this.

"Absolutely."

**XXX**

Ichigo had crept into Isshin's room to warn him that a friend was coming over to spend the night. His father had been pretty out of it, so Ichigo was glad that his father tended to go to bed early. He agreed to anything and didn't ask too many questions when he was woken abruptly. It took him a ridiculously long time to function after waking up. He'd pretty much started snoring again before Ichigo had left the room.

Ichigo had already been in his pajamas, comfy sweatpants and a white wife beater. It was freezing outside but the house was warm. He didn't even need socks as he padded around on the wood flooring, waiting for Grimmjow to arrive.

He tried not to panic at the tone of voice Grimmjow had been using on the phone. He'd sounded disastrous. Ichigo prayed with every fiber of his being that it didn't have anything to do with their relationship. Was he coming to break up with him?

Ichigo instantly felt sick.

He finally decided it would be best to go outside and wait for him so that he wouldn't have to knock or ring the doorbell. He couldn't afford to wake up his entire house, so he hurried back up to his room, threw on a jacket, socks, and shoes before going outside in the cold night air to wait on the front stoop.

Grimmjow appeared about ten minutes later, walking slowly. The moment their eyes met, Ichigo knew something was very, very wrong.

Grimmjow's hands were in his hoodie pockets, his blue eyes looking hazy.

"Grimm?" Ichigo asked, approaching him. Grimmjow didn't reply, just looked at Ichigo like a wounded puppy, like a stray that had been found wandering the streets and was about to be taken in. What the hell had happened?

"Come inside," Ichigo offered, tugging on his arm. Grimmjow's feet moved, his body stiff as Ichigo led him into the house, closing the door quietly behind him.

Ichigo led him to the kitchen, making him take a seat as he set about preparing hot tea. Grimmjow was wearing a jacket, but his face was as white as a sheet and he was probably cold.

Silence stretched as Ichigo prepared the tea as quickly as possible, pouring it into two mugs and setting one in front of Grimmjow. Grimmjow looked like he hadn't even seen Ichigo do it. He just stared blankly.

Ichigo reached forward to grab Grimmjow's hand to remove it from his hoodie pocket. His eyes widened when he saw the dried blood and scabbing on his knuckles, two of them swollen and a bit red and purple, "Grimmjow, what happened?"

"I'm tired," Grimmjow announced, looking at Ichigo but not _looking _at Ichigo.

"Come on," Ichigo tugged him to his feet, leading him up the dark quiet stairs and towards the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and turned on the light, starting up the water in the shower, letting it get hot as he literally began to disrobe Grimmjow. Grimmjow just stood there like a giant male doll, allowing Ichigo to remove his hoodie jacket and shirt. Ichigo made quick work of his belt and slipped his jeans down, Grimmjow stepping out of them, staring at Ichigo again.

Ichigo was scared shitless. He had never, ever seen Grimmjow act like this, and he didn't know what to do. Was he in shock? He had obviously gotten into a fight, but there was no damage to his face or anything else that Ichigo could see besides his knuckles. Had he hurt someone? Possibly killed someone? Did this have to do with the gang?

Ichigo swallowed the lump in his throat, the hot steam from the shower bringing him back to his senses, "Let's get you cleaned up, Grimm, then you can sleep."

Grimmjow nodded minutely, taking off his boxers and staring at Ichigo with empty eyes, his hand reaching out to grasp Ichigo's, "Come with me?"

It had been so soft. Ichigo nodded, beginning to take his clothes off immediately when Grimmjow let go of his hand and stepped into the shower stall, soaking under the hot spray. Ichigo stepped in behind him, watching hot rivers run down Grimmjow's muscled tan body. Ichigo's eyes couldn't help but travel the expanse of his broad back, his shoulder blades bunching as he ran his hands over his face several times and through his soaked blue locks. Ichigo's eyes traveled farther down, studying the large black gothic 6 tattoo on his lower back above his ass. Six. Sexta. A gang tattoo.

"Grimmjow," Ichigo said, his fingers brushing against the tattoo, "What happened tonight?"

Grimmjow turned around, pulling Ichigo closer to him under the spray, their bodies touching in the most intimate of ways. Ichigo could feel himself getting aroused, but the moment was too strange for him to take advantage of it. He had never seen Grimmjow so quiet, so sullen. It really scared him.

It wasn't really a hug, but Grimmjow's hands had moved to Ichigo's hips, making him suck in a breath as Grimmjow leaned down and kissed him. Ichigo returned the kiss, trying to understand. He didn't know what Grimmjow wanted, what he needed. If he did, he'd gladly give it to him.

"Grimm," Ichigo pleaded, breaking off the kiss and holding Grimmjow's face between his hands. Ichigo shivered at the dead blue eyes. They were almost hollow, like no one was inside of them, like there was no soul. They were still blue but they were empty, "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. Let me take care of you."

Grimmjow sucked in a breath like a sigh, his arms wrapping more tightly around Ichigo as he rested his head on Ichigo's shoulder. Ichigo reached for a bottle of shampoo and began to lather it in Grimmjow's hair, doing his best with the bigger male being pretty uncooperative. It was like he was a marionette doll. Ichigo was completely at a loss. After washing his hair and scrubbing most of his torso with soap, he checked Grimmjow's knuckles, scrubbing the cuts gently and feeling them for breaks. Thankfully he hadn't broken any of his knuckles, but the two on his right hand were swollen and would probably hurt in the morning.

He turned the shower off, stepping out with Grimmjow and toweling himself down before turning to Grimmjow to towel dry him. Grimmjow just stood there, soaking wet as Ichigo got another towel. Grimmjow took the towel from him, rubbing it through his wet hair before quickly wiping his body down, barely drying himself. Ichigo dressed himself again as Grimmjow put on his boxers, but Ichigo took his shirt and jeans from him.

"I'll wash them in the morning," he said, taking Grimmjow's hand and leading him to his dark and quiet bedroom, locking the door behind him. He didn't have the biggest bed in the world, but it was Westernized and comfortable. He dug through his closet for the biggest shirt he had, offering it to Grimmjow. Grimmjow slipped it over his head, the white material straining nicely against his frame. Ichigo drew his covers back, his heart racing a mile a minute.

Grimmjow was still standing there, staring at the bed like it was a coffin.

"Grimmjow," Ichigo said again, beginning to get frustrated. He was so scared he didn't know what to do with him. Slap him? Yell at him? Coo to him like a little baby? It was so bizarre. Ichigo felt like a mother hen leading her chick to the nest.

Ichigo took his hand and began to crawl into bed, hoping Grimmjow would take the hint and follow him. Grimmjow complied, laying down next to him. They were facing each other, staring at each other like they could figure out each other's secrets by staring alone. The eyes are the window to the soul.

_What had happened to Grimmjow's soul?_

Ichigo cuddled closer to him, one of his hands trailing through Grimmjow's damp hair. Grimmjow sighed, his body beginning to relax.

"It'll be okay," Ichigo mumbled, resting his forehead against Grimmjow's. Grimmjow grunted, closing his eyes as Ichigo's fingers continuing their ministrations on Grimmjow's scalp, soothing small circles that Ichigo hoped would lull him to sleep.

The room was dark but Ichigo saw Grimmjow open his eyes again. He was breathing normally through his nose, just staring. Ichigo suddenly felt like he was trying to soothe a startled animal. If he could just get the wild animal to relax, to feel safe…

Grimmjow's calloused fingers sent sparks of fire along Ichigo's skin as the fingers moved along the side of his jaw and along the back of his neck. Their foreheads had still been close, so it hadn't been much of a distance to close in the first place. The kiss was chaste, Ichigo's heart skipping at the simple contact.

Grimmjow pecked against his lips again before gently tugging and sucking on Ichigo's bottom lip, practically making his eyes roll into the back of his head. Ichigo's hands gripped at Grimmjow's hair tightly now, insuring that his face wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Tongues danced, teeth nipped. Ichigo's leg crept slowly over Grimmjow's tilted hip, their positions changing slightly so that their neglected crotches could rub together. Grimmjow groaned deep in his throat, making Ichigo shiver as he slowly began to grind himself against Grimmjow's half-hardened member.

"Ichigo," Grimmjow husked, making goose bumps race over his flesh before a spark of warmth ignited in his stomach.

Ichigo ran his hands down Grimmjow's chest, regretting having given him a shirt as he felt the heat of his flesh through the material. Ichigo lost his breath as he felt Grimmjow roll over the top of him, pinning him solidly to the mattress, their arousals in need of more friction.

Grimmjow licked at Ichigo's earlobe, making him whine.

Grimmjow breathed against the side of his neck for a moment, beginning to nip along his neck and collarbone, his fingers pulling at the shirt material. Grimmjow began pulling the tank top over Ichigo's head, his arms moving to accommodate the bluenette. Grimmjow's kisses, nips, and licks continued down Ichigo's torso, making lava pool in his stomach and groin.

Grimmjow was becoming increasingly more aggressive, which both thrilled and confused Ichigo. Of course they had kissed and touched in the past weeks, but they hadn't done anything this aggressive since Ichigo had sucked him off in Grimmjow's room. He wasn't complaining, as Grimmjow was currently working on getting Ichigo out of his sweatpants, but the other part of his brain worried that Grimmjow was pushing himself dangerously fast down a road he had never traveled. Grimmjow was very slowly beginning to accept the fact that he was gay or bisexual, so for him to be jumping right into what Ichigo was fearing to be foreplay for anal sex baffled him.

He didn't know how to stop it. He didn't know if he should stop it. All he did know is that he didn't want their first time to be because Grimmjow was angry, hurt, or confused.

Ichigo yanked on Grimmjow's hair, forcing him to come back up for a kiss. Grimmjow accepted it, Ichigo lifting his hips. Grimmjow moaned, his hips flexing, making Ichigo dizzy.

"Let me take care of you," Ichigo whispered against Grimmjow's lips, "I know you're hurting, but don't force yourself. I don't want you to regret anything with me."

Grimmjow breathed out, resting his head against Ichigo's chest, "I don't regret you. You have to know that."

"Two weeks ago you were afraid to let me suck you off, now you're ready to fuck? It's not the same as a girl, Grimm. There's a lot of messy prep involved, and you're in a pretty fragile state of mind right now."

Grimmjow didn't reply. Instead, he rolled off of Ichigo and pulled him close, his arms wrapped around Ichigo's middle, "I'm tired."

"Okay."

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

"We'll figure it out," Ichigo promised.

"She lied…" he mumbled, settling his chin on top of Ichigo's spiky orange hair.

Ichigo moved his arm more comfortably across Grimmjow's hip, content to have his face in Grimmjow's chest. He was so warm, "I'm here."

Grimmjow took another deep, steady breath, releasing it in a gust, "You're not going to make me explain."

Ichigo didn't know if that was a question or a statement of fact. He shook his head side-to-side, his fingers bunching in Grimmjow's shirt, "I'm not going to make you do anything. I trust you. You know that."

Grimmjow nuzzled his nose into Ichigo's orange locks, the berry's heart stuttering again at the incredibly unexpected moment of intimacy. Grimmjow was a delinquent. Grimmjow beat people up for money. Grimmjow was a gangbanger. Grimmjow was a cuddler. Baffling.

"You know what?"

"What?" Ichigo asked into Grimmjow's chest, feeling his own eyelids getting heavy. It was already past midnight and they would have to get up early in the morning for school. Ichigo was looking forward to his few measly hours of sleep, especially with Grimmjow wrapped around him like this. He felt safe. Complete.

Grimmjow's breath made Ichigo's scalp tingle, "I think I'm falling for you."

Ichigo's entire body stiffened, his fingers so tight in Grimmjow's shirt that he thought he might rip it. Had he heard correctly? Had those words really just left the delinquent's mouth?

Ichigo's heart was beating faster than the wings of a hummingbird, "Grimm?"

"Hm?" Grimmjow grunted, his breathing so easy Ichigo knew he was moments from deep sleep.

Ichigo swallowed the lump in his throat, his arm tightening on Grimmjow's side, "You mean it?"

Grimmjow sighed as he hooked his arm more comfortably around Ichigo's middle, "Mm-hm."

Any more speech would be useless at this point. Grimmjow's chest was rising and falling steadily, his breathing still slightly tickling Ichigo's scalp, one of his tattooed arms draped lazily around his middle, keeping him close.

Ichigo buried his face against Grimmjow's pectoral, staying like that for nearly an hour, dissecting everything Grimmjow had said that night. His behavior before still spooked him, but obviously it was something they could work out. Something drastic had definitely happened that night, but Ichigo knew that it was better to be patient and wait for Grimmjow to be ready than to attack and nag. He didn't want Grimmjow turning away from him, not now. Ichigo felt like giant monarch butterflies had taken flight inside of his stomach.

Grimmjow had come to him when he was hurting. Grimmjow had sought him out. Grimmjow had been fucking _vulnerable._

Vulnerable. God, what a fucking scary word.

_"I think I'm falling for you."_

Ichigo finally fell asleep to the sounds of Grimmjow's soft breathing and the steady beat of his scarred heart.

**XXX**

Morning came all too quickly. Ichigo slapped at his alarm clock after several attempts to disentangle himself from Grimmjow's grasp. It had been difficult. Obviously Grimmjow was a heavy sleeper.

Ichigo left him in bed to quietly bring Grimmjow's clothes to the laundry room. He'd have to hand wash them to save time. After scrubbing them with some detergent in the small sink, he through the jeans and t-shirt into the dryer. Ichigo always woke up an hour early to prepare for school, so the forty minutes would be fine to have them nice and dry and warm for Grimmjow to wear in the cold weather.

Ichigo returned to his bedroom to rut in his closet for an outfit to wear to school, nearly changed when he heard the sheets rustling and the springs creak as Grimmjow shifted his weight.

Ichigo looked over, his breath hitching.

Grimmjow was lying on his back, his head tilted to the side, his blue locks unruly as ever, the slightly-tight white shirt having ridden up to the center of his chest, his boxers dangerously low on his fit hips, exposing a trail of fine blue hair. The comforter had been kicked off sometime during the night, the sheet now wrapped half-hazardly around one of his legs. It was almost comical, but the delinquent was too gorgeous for it to be funny.

Ichigo immediately decided that he never wanted the delinquent to leave his bed, awake or otherwise.

He was just adjusting his belt when he saw Grimmjow blink awake, his cobalt blue eyes settling on the berry almost immediately after realizing he wasn't in the bed alongside him.

"Morning," Ichigo murmured, offering Grimmjow a small half grin.

"Mm," Grimmjow answered, sitting up slowly and running his hands through his hair and over his face, "Time is it?"

"Almost seven. Come on, we have to hurry up if we're going to have breakfast."

Grimmjow stood up from the bed, adjusting his boxers and fixing his shirt, "My clothes."

"They're in the dryer. Should be ready after we eat," Ichigo answered, ignoring Grimmjow's raised eyebrow, "Come on."

**XXX**

Ichigo didn't have time to dazzle Grimmjow with his cooking skills, so he settled for buttered toast, jam, fruit, and strong coffee. Ichigo hadn't known how much Grimmjow loved coffee until he witnessed the boy finish half the pot in less than ten minutes. Seven slices of toast smothered in strawberry jam and a handful of grapes later, Grimmjow finally looked sated.

Ichigo had just finished his second piece of buttered toast when he heard socked feet padding on the floor, stopping in the archway of the kitchen.

Karin's dark eyes looked startled to see the blue-haired delinquent sitting in her kitchen, but only for a moment when she realized her elder brother was sitting next to him at the table.

Ichigo watched her go to the refrigerator to retrieve orange juice, ignoring them. It thoroughly pissed him off.

Grimmjow looked at Ichigo out of the corner of his eye, setting his empty coffee mug down. Ichigo looked back at Karin, righteous indignation flaring up inside of him. Grimmjow knew about what Karin had said, about what she had seen. Grimmjow peaked at him again, his eyes worried but his body relaxed. Ichigo realized that this had to be awkward for him, but he wasn't running, just sitting quietly at his side, waiting for Ichigo to make a decision.

Ichigo was finding more and more reasons to fall in love with the bastard by the second.

"Is Yuzu up?" Ichigo practically barked. It was the first time he'd talked to her since the incident. Since they went to the same school and rode the bus together, Karin was in charge of rousing and helping dress her sister for school.

Karin set her glass down, her dark eyes meeting his before she shuffled out of the kitchen without another word.

Ichigo watched her leave, disappointed.

**XXX**

School was filled with nothing but uncooperative students and fidgety teachers. Gifts were handed out in the hallways between classes, in the cafeteria, in the classrooms themselves. Teachers barked for order, but they weren't fooling anyone. They were just as excited for the Christmas holiday to begin as the students were. Two weeks of freedom before being smothered in the final semester of Ichigo's high school career. He'd thought about Karin practically the entire day.

He found her after school, kicking the soccer ball in the backyard against the wooden fence, her shots strong and accurate. He'd seen her play a few games, had been religious in going to her middle school tournaments.

He wandered closer, hands in his jean pockets, the hoodie to his sweater pushed back halfway due to his unruly hair, "Let's talk, Karin."

Karin spun around, the soccer ball forgotten as it rolled back from the fence to her side. Her obsidian eyes squinted slightly, "About what, Ichi-nii?"

"You know what," Ichigo shot back, shifting his weight to his other leg, "You won't even look at me. It's not a disease, Karin. I promise you won't catch it. I had no idea you hated me so much."

Karin's jaw clenched, her stance rigid, "I don't have to say anything to you."

"Yes you do! Are you going to keep treating me like dirt because I'm gay? Why haven't you told dad, huh? Why aren't you telling anyone? It's disgusting, right? Do you have any idea how you've been making me feel? The way you look at me Karin…god, mom would be so disappointed in you."

Ichigo regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, but there was no taking them back now. Karin's lip trembled, her eyes watering.

Shit. Ichigo took a step forward, "Karin, I…"

"You don't know ANYTHING!" Karin suddenly screamed, kicking the soccer ball as hard as she could, sending it clear across the yard before she looked at Ichigo again, tears streaming down her face as it got redder with her anger, "You don't know what I go through at school, what the kids say about me and Yuz. I push everybody away because they make fun of Yuzu; I protect her because nobody else will! I know what they say about me, that I'm a demon, that I don't have any feelings, that I'm not normal! My twin sister, the one person I'm supposed to have no matter what isn't able to be the person I need! Instead I have to watch HER and provide for HER, no one has time for me, not even dad!"

She wiped her face with the backs of her hands before continuing, "He's too busy with Unohana-san, and all Yuzu talks about is that Nel girl, and now…and now the one person I thought I had left…"

Ichigo didn't know what to say, what to do.

"You're always home after school to make us dinner. You came to all my soccer tournaments. You're the only friend I have, Ichi-nii, and seeing you with Grimmjow, I just…_I DON'T WANNA BE ALONE!_"

Ichigo grabbed his sister, hugging her against him as she started sobbing into his sweater, her hands clutching at the material, "I'm SO SORRY, ICHI-NII! I'm so sorry I said those things! I was angry!"

Ichigo rubbed her back soothingly, the pieces falling into place. Of course Ichigo hadn't been thinking about Karin's perspective, and the more he thought about Karin's words, the more he felt like an idiot. Karin had always been fiercely protective of Yuzu. He knew Karin loved Yuzu as much as she loved herself, but it had to be hard having a twin that was in need of constant care and attention. Add the fact that she didn't have a mother and her father was constantly working and had just started dating one of his colleagues after years of being alone, a sweet doctor from Karakura General named Unohana. Isshin had even talked to Ichigo about it before officially beginning dating Unohana, afraid that it wasn't the right decision for the kids, but Ichigo had been all for it. His dad deserved it. He didn't want him dying from stress.

Apparently Karin had taken it personal, but Ichigo was also relieved. Karin would have been just as angry if she had seen him kissing a girl in their yard, right?

"So you…you don't care that I'm…that I like Grimmjow?" Ichigo asked quietly after Karin had stopped sniffling.

She lifted her head, wiping her eyes for the last time, "You're my brother, Ichi-nii. Why would I care about something as trivial as that?"

"Trivial?" Ichigo grinned, ruffling her dark hair, "Three point vocab word, yeah?"

"Shut up," Karin replied, slapping his hand away with a smile, "I'm thirteen years old. I know a lot more than you think I do."

"You're definitely smart," Ichigo admonished, getting down on his haunches to be eye level with his sister, "You're a good kid. Don't force yourself to be something you're not. Don't bottle emotions up like that. It'll make your hair gray."

Karin looked away from him for a moment, her eyes shifting, "I am myself. Kids think I'm scary."

Ichigo grinned, "You are scary. So, you just gotta find the other monsters in your class, ne?"

Karin's face lit up in a smirk that mirrored her brother's, "You think so?"

"Know so," Ichigo nodded, standing up straight again, "Come on, Yuz wants to make a gingerbread house."

"You know I'm not good at that stuff," Karin mumbled, following her brother into the house.

"We can make gingerbread cookies too," Ichigo said, ruffling her hair again, "enough for your class's Christmas party tomorrow, ne?"

"You really think that will work?"

Ichigo followed the sounds of Yuzu's preparation in the kitchen, unable to keep the grin off of his face, "Never underestimate the power of cookies, kid."

**XXX**

Grimmjow hung up the phone, resigned to his fate.

He had to do it. He had to suck all the poison out of his life, end it once and for all or he'd never be able to move on. He had people he needed to protect, a life he wanted to make his own, and that would never happen if he continued to be the puppet of the Hollows.

He'd decided the moment he'd read his mother's letter, the moment he'd heard her words ringing in his head for the last time. He'd pictured his father's eyes and known that if he continued to walk the path he was on, he'd end up just like those eyes. He'd become the monster that slapped a child out of anger. He'd hurt everyone around him, everyone he had left, anyway.

He'd hurt Nel. He'd hurt Ichigo.

Bile rose in his throat at the thought of losing either of them.

It was two days before Christmas. Tousen was not pleased.

_"Tomorrow night, then. How convenient."_

Tousen's tone of voice had been as good as a death sentence. It was pretty much what Grimmjow was asking for in the first place. Members had been called already, informed that there was going to be a 'meeting' on Christmas Eve at their 'headquarters'. They hadn't gotten much information, but the entire gang, including Aizen, got together about four times a year to talk about potential new members, initiations, drug shipments, and other activities that were considered unethical.

Tousen thought Grimmjow's decision was perfectly timed, then. They'd be able to kill two birds with one stone, as it were. Why have the entire gang get together for a second night just to beat Grimmjow into the ground for his impending disloyalty?

But he was determined. Hell, if Kenpachi had survived being jumped out of the Soul Reapers, he sure as hell could survive the Hollows dis-initiation.

"I got a bad feelin' 'bout this, Sexta," Gin said from his new chair he had just ordered for his apartment, a white globe that was hollowed out. He sat perched inside it, his mysterious blue eyes boring into Grimmjow.

Grimmjow looked at his best friend, "It'll be a real shitty Christmas, Gin."

Gin nodded and lit a cigarette.

**I want to apologize for the length, and also apologize for not fulfilling my cliffhanger of the previous chapter. There was just too much to get done. I didn't realize how much I had needed to answer. I spent more time on this than any of you will ever care to know. **

TMT Playlist:

"Bitch I'm Sexy" by Dark Lotus [the Hollows…when I hear this song I just picture the gang lol]

"The Older I Get" by Skillet [Grimmjow/Ichigo]

"Dove and Grenade" by Hollywood Undead [Grimmjow]

"Vindicated" by Dashboard Confessional [Ichigo]

"How I Can Just Kill a Man" by Rage Against the Machine [Starrk]

"Soundtrack 2 My Life" by Kid Cudi [Gin]

"Game On" by Disciple [Shirosaki]

"Alphabet Bitches" by Lil Wayne [Nnoitra, because he's a man whore in my head]

"P.O.S. Is Ruining My Life" by P.O.S. [The song responsible for the fic in the first place]

"The Quiet Screaming" by Legion of Doom [Gin/Shuhei, possibly Grimmjow/Ichigo]

"Bruises" by Sugarcult [this is the song I was listening to when Grimmjow and Ichigo were punching each other in the beginning of the fic lol]

"Space Bound" by Eminem

"You're Going Down" by Sick Puppies

"Say Goodnight" by Bullet for My Valentine

"Jesus Christ" by Brand New

"Nightprowler" by Living Legend

"Strange and Beautiful" by Aqualung

…If anyone thinks they have a song that would fit the mood of this fic, or have a song that would work well with how I have portrayed one (or more) of the characters, please let me know and I will add it to the list. I just love making playlists for my ipod and these songs are on my ipod under "TMT playlist" so I thought I would share -TPP


	11. Aegresco Egresco

**-Tell Me Tomorrow-**

_'The moon will illuminate my room_

_and soon I'm consumed by my doom.'_

**Chapter 11: Aegresco Egresco**

Ichigo stood on the front stoop, both hands holding handles to bags. His breath looked like smoke in the cold air, a purple scarf wrapped around his neck. He rang the doorbell to Kenpachi's apartment again, hearing squealing from within, rushed footsteps, and something that sounded like Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer playing from either a radio or the television.

Ichigo heard Kenpachi bark something, making one of the girls squeal and Ichigo's face immediately relaxed when the door opened to reveal Grimmjow.

Grimmjow stood in the doorway in sweatpants and a ripped tee, his hair free of gel, "Was just about to call you. You had me worried. Why the hell did it take you so long to get here?"

Ichigo felt a stupid smile on his face, but it was early Christmas Eve, and he didn't care. He held the bags out in front of him, "I come baring gifts."

Grimmjow snorted, "Better have. Making me wait like that."

It was only four in the afternoon, but Ichigo hadn't been able to wait any longer to give away his carefully-planned presents, especially Grimmjow's.

"Berry head!" a smiling Yachiru said with a wave. Nel was a little more excited and ran into Ichigo's legs, hugging him fiercely.

"Hey Monster," he said affectionately, trying not to drop his bags. Grimmjow grabbed one handful and tickled Nel until she finally let go of Ichigo's legs so that he could move properly.

"Ichi-ho! Ichi-ho! Guess what? Tonight's Christmas Eve!" she shrieked, jumping up and down excitedly, "Guess what else? Santa Craws is coming tonight! Grimmy made cookies for him and we're gonna leave milk and…"

"Chill, little beast," Grimmjow said, rustling her hair, "You're gonna talk Ichi to death."

"One for you," Ichigo said, pulling a shoebox-sized package from his bag and passing it to Yachiru. He dug further in the bag, pulling out the other shoebox-sized package, "And one for you, Nel. Merry Christmas."

"Yay!" Yachiru and Nel shrieked together, tearing off the wrapping with the fierceness of ravenous wolves.

"AHHHH!" Nel shrieked, hugging the stuffed golden lion chibi cub to her chest, making it squeak, "I LOVE IT! I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT! THANK YOU, ICHI-HO! THANK YOU!"

Ichigo couldn't stop smiling as Nel hugged his leg, her other arm hugging the lion fiercely to her chest. Yachiru went a bit berserk too, holding up the stuffed baby chick wearing a little blue dress and hood.

They ran off into the living room as Kenpachi emerged from the kitchen area wearing a very cheery red-and-green apron that said '_Death To Santa_' with a smiley-face reindeer. Ichigo thought it was extremely appropriate for the intimidating-looking man.

"Yo, Orange. You better be staying for dinner. The goddamn turkey took me two days to stuff properly, so you'd better be eating it," he said darkly, making Ichigo's eyes go wide with fear.

"We eat kinda early," Grimmjow mumbled, shooting Kenpachi a death glare, "Dinner's in an hour, right?"

"Yah, don't do anything stupid until then," Kenpachi warned, disappearing back into the kitchen and clanking around with what sounded like a freaking axe.

"S-still scary," Ichigo murmured, shaking himself and remembering the bags, "I-I'll just hide Kenpachi's under the tree."

Grimmjow lifted a blue brow, "You got the jerk a gift?"

"I-I thought if I didn't, he'd be mad I had left him out, so…but then, I was afraid that he'd hate whatever I got him too, so…either way, I'm dead, right?" Ichigo said, his cheeks red as his namesake as Grimmjow leaned down into him, staring at him eye-to-eye.

Grimmjow smirked, "So where's my gift?"

Ichigo swallowed, suddenly feeling shaky, "Y-you can open it now if you want. Stop staring at me like that."

Grimmjow bumped foreheads with him before dumping the bag he had been holding on the table, removing the box of holiday candies and plate of frosted cookies Ichigo had brought over for the family to eat. Ichigo put his hand in the other bag he had been holding, removing a small wrapped package that couldn't be anything else other than a DVD marked 'Kenpachi' in kanji and another package that was too fat to be a DVD marked 'Grimmjow' in blue-marker.

Grimmjow looked at Ichigo with a somewhat startled expression, "I was joking, Ichi. You actually got me something?"

"Of course, it's Christmas, retard," Ichigo said with a laugh, holding the package out towards him, "Here. Merry Christmas."

It took Grimmjow almost a complete minute to finally accept the package, staring at the wrapping like he'd never seen a present before. His eyebrows were drawn together, his mouth set in the most adorable contemplative pout Ichigo had ever seen. He hoped he got a good reaction from Grimmjow opening it.

"I should save it for Christmas morning," he finally said, meeting Ichigo's eyes.

"Fuck that, open it now," Ichigo said impatiently, his insides feeling like jello as Grimmjow sighed and began tearing off the wrapping paper. Grimmjow lifted the lid to the box, staring in at the contents before pulling them out one by one.

He held up the first item, a very carefully wrapped homemade frosted cookie that was about the size of his palm, a happy blue cat face staring back at him.

Grimmjow cocked an eyebrow, looking at Ichigo, "Care to explain this?"

Ichigo's face lit up ten shades of red, "I know you like sweet things, so I tried making my own frosting. You don't have to eat it, it's just a simple sugar cookie…"

"I don't want to eat it."

Ichigo's shoulders hunched, Grimmjow grinning, "It's too fucking cute. Look at it: how can I eat that with a clear conscience? I like cats."

Ichigo's heart banged around his rib cage as Grimmjow set the wrapped cookie down on the table, shaking his head. He had just realized he had said the word 'cute' aloud. Seriously, Ichigo was making him lose what little sanity he had left.

Grimmjow picked up the next item, studying the cover with interested blue eyes.

"A pocket medical dictionary," Grimmjow said with a grin, "Damn you make me feel like such a nerd."

Ichigo laughed, nervous as Grimmjow set it down next to him on the table and continued.

The final gift was wrapped in red tissue paper. Grimmjow unfolded it, staring at the gleaming steel metal chain. It was long and had thick links with something hanging off the belt hook. He picked it up, studying it more carefully.

The number fifteen gleamed back at him, Grimmjow wondering where Ichigo would have found the charm. It wasn't large, barely noticeable, but the metals matched perfectly. It had obviously been put on somehow, not a part of the original chain.

Grimmjow felt those annoying butterflies in the pit of his stomach again. Fuck, this kid really was going to be the death of him one day.

Ichigo smoothed his hair back with one hand, his face and neck both red, "I know it's weird but I never see you wear jewelry and I just wanted to get you something that reminded you – uh, of me, so…"

Grimmjow leaned into Ichigo, kissing him on the mouth and effectively shutting him up, "Shut up. I fucking love it. This rocks. Thank you."

Grimmjow packed his presents back into the unwrapped box and grabbed Ichigo's hand, towing him towards the stairs, "Now it's your turn."

Ichigo's heart leaped into his throat as he followed behind Grimmjow, never releasing his hand until they made it into Grimmjow's room, "Grimm, I told you not to get me anything. You should have spent what money you've been saving on Nel…"

"Shut up, I got her presents," Grimmjow said, opening one of his drawers.

"But I…"

Grimmjow turned around, holding a tissue-wrapped package that was about the size of a school binder. It was even tied with a green ribbon that looked shredded on the ends, like Grimmjow had gotten frustrated trying to tape the damn thing together.

Ichigo accepted it, smiling at Grimmjow's handiwork, "Great wrap job, Grimmjow."

"Fuck you, the wrapping's unimportant," Grimmjow grunted, but there was no heat in it. His eyes looked expectant.

Ichigo carefully removed the ribbon strings, pulling the tissue wrap away, his eyes searching what had been revealed.

A see-through plastic cover revealed an ink set. All the pens were labeled, some thick-tipped, some thin. Ten inking pens, including several black markers and highlighting pencils. Ichigo tried to clear his throat but was failing miserably. The only thing that could have made things worse was if the tears that threatened Ichigo's vision actually fell down his cheeks.

"Oh shit," Grimmjow said, lifting Ichigo's chin and looking him in the eyes, "I see you drawing in class all the time and I just thought…I can return it, shit I didn't think you'd hate it this much…"

"I'm crying because I like it!" Ichigo growled, grabbing the front of Grimmjow's shirt with his empty hand, "I really, really like it, you stupid jerk!"

Grimmjow laughed, pulling something out of his sweatpants pocket, "One more, Ichi."

"Dammit," Ichigo said, wiping the tears from his eyes when he let go of Grimmjow's shirt.

Grimmjow opened his palm and Ichigo nearly gasped. A stainless steel bracelet stared back at him. He continued to stare at the links, realizing the bracelet was made entirely of interlinked number 6's.

"You wear a watch sometimes, so I figured a bracelet…" Grimmjow trailed off, opening one of the links and putting it around Ichigo's right wrist, snapping it back into place. It was nearly perfect; loose enough not to suffocate, small enough not to slip off and get lost.

Ichigo shook his wrist a few times, testing it. It was surprisingly heavy, but in a good way, like he was anchored down. Like he was chained. Chained to Grimmjow. Perfect.

"This is bad ass," Ichigo said, staring at his wrist before getting on his tiptoes and pressing a kiss to Grimmjow's lips, "A Sexta bracelet."

Ichigo couldn't read the expression in Grimmjow's eyes. It couldn't have been worry. Not worry, not today. Ichigo would ignore it.

"Thank you," Ichigo murmured, pecking Grimmjow on the lips again, surprised when Grimmjow's hands settled on his neck and the side of his face, kissing him with fervor. Ichigo heard himself moan, pressing himself closer to Grimmjow until his hips met flesh.

"Hold on," Ichigo gasped between kisses, trying to push Grimmjow's chin away with his free hand, "Let me set this down. I don't want to drop it."

Grimmjow grabbed it from him, setting it onto his empty-looking desk before grabbing Ichigo's hips, sighing against his lips, "You better dedicate your first manga to me."

Ichigo snorted as Grimmjow began sucking on his neck, "What kind of manga?"

"That's obvious, ain't it?" Grimmjow smirked against his neck, dragging him backward towards his bed, Ichigo landing on top of him. Ichigo slipped his tongue inside Grimmjow's mouth, whining when he felt Grimmjow's hands run along his ass.

"Gah," Ichigo hissed. Grimmjow's hands had somehow managed to snake beneath his jeans and boxers, hot fingers ghosting against the soft flesh of his ass, "G-Grimm."

"Figured it out yet?" Grimm asked, paying particular attention to Ichigo's ear.

Ichigo had no idea what he was talking about. He moved his hands against Grimmjow's chest, one moving to yank on Grimmjow's hair while the other rested on a pectoral, "Don't tease me."

"It's my mission in life."

"Fuck you."

"Sounds good," Grimmjow husked. If Ichigo hadn't been hard before, he was now.

"Fuck," Ichigo groaned as Grimmjow's hands kneaded his ass at the same time as he rotated his hips.

"That's the idea."

Ichigo sat up, effectively straddling Grimmjow's hips as he looked down at him. Had he meant that? Was he still fucking teasing or was he being serious?

"I want you," Grimmjow continued, moving his hands out from Ichigo's pants and planting them on his hips, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into Ichigo's hip bones, "We both fucking know it. I don't wanna waste any time with you."

Ichigo's body hummed with excitement at the words, but his brow pulled together as he studied Grimmjow's face, "Why are you talking like we don't have time?"

Grimmjow didn't answer. That look was back again. Ichigo could see it in his eyes. Worry. There was something else there too, but he didn't know what. He had gotten close enough to Grimmjow to realize he spoke more with his eyes than his words.

And then the emotion flickered away, a grin on his face, "So you don't want help with your manga?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Grimmjow shifted his weight and sat up on the bed, his smile lecherous, "You're gonna become a famous yaoi mangaka."

"Che," Ichigo said, bumping Grimmjow's forehead with his own, "Sure, baka, right after you graduate from med school."

"Promise?" Grimmjow said, still grinning like an idiot.

Ichigo rolled his eyes but kissed him anyway.

**XXX**

Hanky-panky ended when Kenpachi yelled through the door again, announcing dinner was ready (and also rudely suggesting that they tuck their dicks away before coming downstairs). Dinner was spectacular with a traditional westernized Thanksgiving dinner. Ichigo had practically cried when Nel had shot mashed potatoes out of her nose and Grimmjow had choked on his glass of milk. Kenpachi had threatened to beat them all within an inch of their lives if there were too many leftovers.

After two hours of food, fun, and hot chocolate, Ichigo helped Kenpachi and Grimmjow clean up the dishes while Yachiru and Nel ran off to play with the plushies Ichigo had gotten them.

When the last dish had been dried, Ichigo heard Grimmjow say something to Kenpachi.

He turned from his place by the sink, staring in horror at Grimmjow handing over the present Ichigo had gotten for Kenpachi.

"I feel all warm and fuzzy inside," Kenpachi said gruffly, staring at the unopened package. He ripped it away with one pull, revealing the DVD inside.

"Kanonji's my favorite comedian of all time," Kenpachi said with reverence, looking from the stand-up comedy DVD to Ichigo's scared face, "Shit, kid. How the hell did you know?"

Ichigo shrugged, "My dad suggested it. It's one of his favorites too, and you already have every wrestling DVD known to man, so I took a risk."

Ichigo practically screamed as Kenpachi picked him up in a supersonic bear hug, crushing his rib cage, "I don't know why the hell you're with a kid like G, but I'm damn glad you are. Thanks, kid."

"Y-you're welcome," Ichigo gasped as Kenpachi set him back down and left the kitchen, muttering to himself about extended footage and a banana-peel routine.

Grimmjow grinned at him before sliding his hoodie over his head, "Ready to go home, great conqueror?"

To be honest, he was a bit torn. He'd agreed to come over to Grimmjow's early because Grimmjow had to work that night at his second job, a convenience store that was open every day of the year and paid double on holidays. Besides, his family spent Christmas Eve together and even opened most of their presents before Christmas morning. He wanted to be with his family, but he realized with a pang that he would rather be with Grimmjow, "Sure."

**XXX**

Grimmjow walked him home, Ichigo clutching his new pen set to his chest the whole way home. He couldn't wait to start using them; his fingers were practically itching to draw now. He had just gotten some new cardstock a few weeks ago.

All too soon they were on Ichigo's front lawn, both their breaths steaming out in front of them as they fought the cold. The temperature really had dropped. It had to be somewhere in the forties.

"Have fun," Grimmjow said, leaning in and kissing Ichigo on the forehead, "Merry Christmas, Ichi."

He turned to go, Ichigo calling after him, "Call me tomorrow, okay? My dad wants to have you over for Christmas lunch."

Grimmjow looked back at Ichigo, masking his eyes again. Ichigo didn't understand it. That was the third time tonight he'd seen Grimmjow do that. It was beginning to worry him, something deep in his gut turning raw.

Grimmjow suddenly grabbed Ichigo in a hug, making Ichigo stiffen.

"You won't see me tomorrow, Ichi."

Okay, Ichigo could understand that. A lot of people stuck with their own families on important holidays. Maybe that was the reason, but what could it hurt to just get on the phone and call? "Then I'll see you on your birthday."

Grimmjow had stepped back, bumping foreheads with Ichigo again, "I'll call you when I can, okay?"

He began to walk away again, only getting as far as the sidewalk, Ichigo's breath leaving in a gust.

"Don't do this."

Grimmjow paused, looking back at Ichigo over his shoulder.

"Don't do this," Ichigo repeated, his hands clenched at his sides, "You're hiding something from me. I know it. Don't do it, Grimmjow, don't you fucking dare lie to me."

"I'm going to work," Grimmjow said matter-of-factly, "Your family's waiting, Ichigo."

"You're lying," Ichigo said sternly, trusting his instincts.

"What do you want from me?"

Ichigo shook his head in disbelief, "I thought you trusted me."

"I do."

"Then you wouldn't be _lying_."

"I'll call you."

"No," Ichigo said pointedly, noticing how Grimmjow's voice was robotic, like a monotonous answering machine, "you won't."

Grimmjow turned completely around, hands in his hoodie pockets, his eyes flickering over Ichigo's cold-flushed face, the golden eyes angry and begging at the same time.

"If you fucking love me, you'll trust me."

Ichigo's heart nearly stopped. Without another word, Grimmjow walked away from him, leaving Ichigo hurt and confused.

Ichigo stood frozen. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, watching the inky purple sky change to black, streetlights having been on for a while.

"Ichi-nii, what are you doing?"

Ichigo turned towards Karin who stood peering at him from the front doorway in a striped black sweater, her intelligent eyes roaming his face.

He didn't know what expression he was wearing as he walked towards her and into the warmth of his home, shutting out the sudden cold.

**XXX**

Later that night, Grimmjow stood in the poorly lit shipping warehouse. It was still in operation, but not at this time of the night, especially during a holiday. It was nearly midnight, almost Christmas.

What a fucking shitty Christmas present.

Grimmjow had returned home to change into jeans, a wife beater and thick flannel shirt and hoodie.

Ichigo had been right. He was a fucking liar. He had told Kenpachi the day before that he had been offered the Christmas Eve shift at his second job, and the man had barely batted an eyelash.

Nobody would be looking for him tonight. Nobody would be missing him. He had needed it that way.

He shifted his weight, hearing the charm jingle on his new wallet chain. Tonight wasn't exactly the best night to be wearing it, but he had wanted it with him, even if Ichigo was probably furious with him. Grimmjow knew that he hadn't been fair, that he was putting unnecessary doubts in the berry's head, but protecting him was so much more important than being in his favor at the moment.

Grimmjow would make it up to him. If he survived the night, he'd tell Ichigo everything.

He was currently surrounded by other Hollow members, most of them looking bored while others looked at him with open hostility. Tousen had just finished bringing them up to speed on Grimmjow's decision to disband, and it hadn't exactly gone over well.

He heard someone crack their knuckles, another laugh. There were about forty of them in total, including Tousen and his two favorite goons that were always seen at his side. Considering he was blind, Grimmjow wasn't too worried about the man beating him to death, but he couldn't be so sure about the others surrounding him.

It was a rule amongst them. Everybody participated in jumping someone in and everybody participated in jumping someone out. And that meant _everybody_, including his closest fucking friends in the entire world.

"Motherfucker," Nnoitra had mumbled, staring at Grimmjow with his one good eye, "you stupid ass motherfucker."

Grimmjow could understand: they were friends, but Nnoitra would never leave this life. He had nothing, he had no one. Grimmjow could have been just like him.

Shirosaki stood to his side, arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes demonic but his face relaxed. Grimmjow knew he felt all wrong about what was going to happen, but if he didn't throw in a few punches, he'd look suspicious.

Gin was leaning against a giant wooden crate, finishing a cigarette. He looked completely unconcerned, as if he were waiting at a bus stop, as if his best friend wasn't about to get the worst beating of his fucking existence. Gin always took everything with stride.

He was also the only person Grimmjow had told in advance besides Tousen. Gin had simply sat quietly with him before offering him a cigarette. Nothing had needed to be said: Gin had always supported Grimmjow in every decision he had ever made, and for some pathetic reason, that made Grimmjow feel stronger as he waited for the wrath of those surrounding him.

Tousen smiled at Grimmjow, his blind eyes a shiny white, "Then let's get this party started, shall we? I want you all to show Grimmjow what happens to those who betray us."

"Actually, yer gonna be showin' me too, Tousen-_sama._"

Grimmjow spun around to confront the barer of that voice, angry as a hellcat. His eyes narrowed for a moment as he stared at his best friend of nearly ten years, his eyes as slitted as ever.

"Shut up, Gin," Grimmjow growled, his body tense.

"Nah, I don't think so," Gin said, taking a few more steps forward, his hands in his pockets, his steps lazy.

Grimmjow looked into Gin's face, his slit-eye smirk never wavering, "Goddammit, Gin! Fuck off, this has nothing to do with you!"

"Ne, calm yerself, kitty."

Grimmjow grunted in anger, hating that his best friend was choosing now of all times to be noble. He sure as hell hadn't told Grimmjow he had been planning something this stupid.

"Baka!" Grimmjow snarled, turning towards Tousen, "Don't listen to him. This is about me and me only."

Grimmjow had never thought he would be capable of strangling Gin, but he wanted to when he heard Gin's unmistakable soft chuckle.

"Ya think I'm doin' it fer you?" Gin said, cocking his head to the side with a smile, "Mah mah, Sexta, didn't know ya liked me so much."

"Fuck you," Grimmjow said, turning back towards Tousen again, "Tousen, I asked for this. I understand what I'm asking and what I've done, and I'll take the punishment for it."

Tousen's face was contorted in rage, his nostrils flaring, "You both dare to defy Aizen-sama?"

"Just get it over with," Gin smiled sweetly at Tousen, "Shouldn't take long, not with the recruits ya have 'fer back up."

Tousen smirked, "So you know about my little surprise?"

"Hard 'ta miss," Gin said, cocking his head, "Didn' think ya'd stoop _that_ low, Tousen. I thought a man like 'ya had _class_ and _rules_. Yer always talkin' about justice and mercy and other nonsense."

Grimmjow, and pretty much everybody else in the room was completely lost to what they were talking about. Recruits? Grimmjow hadn't liked the sound of that. Getting hit by forty-something people was bad enough.

"My my," a soft authoritative voice said from the shadows, making most of the gathered gang members crane their heads to look at the speaker, "This is certainly touching, I must say. I honestly don't know which is more pathetic: a lost kitten willing to be skinned to adopt a home, or a wily fox leaving tracks for the hunter."

Aizen stepped completely out of the shadows, wearing a tailored suit that only the haughtiest of men could pull off. His hair was slicked back, his brown eyes as dead as they had always been. Two burly guards were near him, but they stayed where they were as he stepped further into the overhead bulb lighting of the warehouse, "I would expect this kind of thing from you, Grimmjow. After all, you were always brawn, never brains. I applaud you for being so brave. Actually, you will be the first to have ever asked to be dis-initiated from the Hollows."

Aizen's eyes flickered to Gin, who had still not moved, "But the wily little fox…now there is the true dilemma. You, on the other hand, were picked for your brains, so I find it very difficult to believe that you would be willing to give up your place in the Hollows for something as trivial as a BOND, a FRIENDSHIP. You've never been one for relationships: after all, I am the one that sent you to the Soul Reapers to extract information, to be my personal snake."

Grimmjow looked at Gin as if he had just learned that the man had committed rape. He had never asked Gin about his old gang affiliation; after all, he had only been with the Reapers for barely a year before being initiated into the Hollows. Grimmjow had been jumped in from the start; Gin had come later, even though they had been friends for nearly five years when it had happened. They had continued to be friends with each other even though they were in rivaling gangs, but Grimmjow had never even once suspected that Gin had been a Hollow from the start. A sleeper-spy, a snake; a snake with the cunning of a fox.

Everybody was reacting by this point, some verbally and some visibly. Tousen looked unmoved: Grimmjow knew that nothing was really a secret to Aizen's favorite and closest lapdog.

"Truly, Aizen-sama," Gin said, his voice dripping with sarcasm even as he smiled, "ya' seem 'ta understand me, inside and out."

Aizen chuckled, making Grimmjow tense. He hated that laugh. It was chilling, demeaning; this man had serious issues with his superiority complex, "I wish I understood you better, Gin. You disappoint me."

"It's what I've always been good at," Gin murmured, his face looking serious for once, "Disappointin' is a lot easier."

Aizen shook his head slowly from side to side, "Truly disappointing. To lose a mind of your caliber…very disappointing indeed. A staggering IQ, an eidetic memory and yet…so, so very stupid. Throwing it all away…I must say I'm absolutely baffled."

Grimmjow's eyes widened: he'd known Gin was smart. Hell, he was a total bookworm and quoted famous dead people all the time. He was probably the smartest kid Grimmjow knew, but he'd always thought Kurosaki was smarter than him because of the class ranking. He didn't know what an eidetic memory was, but he knew it had to be impressive. Gin never seemed to forget anything. Ever.

"I'm tired a' drug pushin'," Gin said, opening his eyes and revealing their icy depths. Grimmjow wasn't sure whose eyes were more powerful at that moment, Aizen's or Gin's, "I'm ready 'ta live ma' own life, and wha' better way 'ta go out than with 'yer best friend in 'tha entire world?"

If looks could kill, Grimmjow mused, he was assured that Gin's skin would have been melted right off of his body and his bones would have turned to ash from the steady glare that Aizen emitted, "Very well then. A dual beating."

Someone laughed, Grimmjow immediately recognizing Abarai with his flaming red hair, his favorite rag tag team of goons Grimmjow had threatened in the alley way all those months ago behind him, looking pompous and cocky. At least not all of the Soul Reapers had been invited. They had just stepped in from one of the side sliding doors, some of the Hollows looking pissed off that they were being permitted to join in on all the fun and festivities. Grimmjow had to think that was at least a positive sign: his own executioners didn't want other executioners on their turf or touching their property.

Renji's eyes looked blazed: he was hopped up on something, his grin evil, his eyes focusing in on Gin. Of course he was going to beat the shit out of Grimmjow too, but now that it had been revealed that Gin had been a mole during his time with the Reapers, he was in for quite the world of hurt.

Tousen's smile was unnerving, Grimmjow's throat suddenly feeling too tight, "This will be quite the show."

Gin was standing next to Grimmjow now, standing tall and proud, his deceptive smile widening, "Yah, too bad 'yer fuckin' blind."

Grimmjow knew he heard Shirosaki snort.

Fear lodged itself in Grimmjow's spine at the smile on Tousen's face, a metal pipe being put into his hand by another member, "Oh, but participating is the fun. I will cherish your screams for a long time to come, traitors."

**XXX**

Starrk was watching calmly from behind Aizen, taking in the entire exchange. Aizen's body language had changed: the boys had managed to rattle him. Starrk wanted to be surprised, but he wasn't, not at all, because at his core, Aizen was a bully, a coward. He made others do his dirty work for him, manipulating and deceiving and playing god in a house full of breakable toys.

Aizen's control had been broken tonight. He was being thoroughly distracted.

The shadows were long and deep as Starrk's fingers grazed against Lilynette.

**XXX**

Grimmjow heard Abarai laugh as the gang members converged, a writhing mass of limbs as they started swinging. It took everything in Grimmjow to not raise his fists, to not lash out and start slamming faces into concrete and break knee caps. That's not how it worked. Tousen's metal pipe connected with his right side, the air leaving Grimmjow's lungs in an animalistic shriek. Grimmjow was so stunned from the pain he couldn't see Tousen's smiling face.

Fists, fists everywhere. His right eye was swelling shut, his neck craning to the side, his good eye seeing Abarai and a stoic Kuchiki kicking the living shit out of Gin. Grimmjow let out a strangled grunt, trying to form words as he watched one of the Hollows go to his side with a heated iron. Grimmjow started struggling at this point as nameless hands grabbed at him, pulling him to his feet as others took cheap shots to his groin, ribs, and chest.

He crumbled to his knees as a vicious kick was landed to his face.

Grimmjow was reeling, afraid his jaw had just been broken or dislocated. He lifted his head in time to see Gin's bloody face, a smirk on it as he said something to Abarai who was holding him down as the Hollow held up the iron over his exposed forearm.

Grimmjow felt terror as he realized what they were about to do.

Grimmjow squeezed his eyes shut as Gin let out a blood curdling scream.

Movement ceased for a moment as Tousen leaned over, practically whispering in Grimmjow's ear, "You're next, traitor."

Grimmjow was barely conscious when the iron rod flashed in front of his eyes. He had no more will to fight.

He felt a very soft kick to his left side, a controlled punch to his chest. He knew who they belonged to. If he made it through the night, he'd thank Nnoitra and Shirosaki for understanding.

He had no will to fight, only the will to live. To survive. He wanted to panic as images of Ichigo flashed behind his burning, swelling eyes. _"Let me take care of you."_

Not this time. It was Grimmjow's turn.

He lay on the cement floor as if crucified, several Hollows holding him down. His vision was shadowy. Black splotches kept interfering with his eyesight, but he saw the stick-thin Nnoitra walk away. He didn't see pale skin and white hair or demon eyes. They had left him. They had done everything they could for him, and now they would retreat, unable to watch his brutal punishment.

Grimmjow had never deserved such incredible friendship.

The heated prod was pressed to his forearm, over his Hollow initiation tattoo, the searing heat so hot the pain didn't even register for the first few seconds.

And then it did. He lost his breath.

His back arched off of the floor as he screamed, a desperate scream like a wounded animal.

**XXX**

Starrk had always believed silencers were a gun's stilettos.

Starrk put bullets through the throats of Aizen's two guards, not giving them enough time to cry out or scream. Before their knees had even hit the tarmac, Stark had calked Lilynette to the back of Aizen's smug skull, his hands coming out at his sides as if to surrender to the police.

"Would you care to explain yourself, Mad Dog?" Aizen drawled.

Stark pressed the barrel more firmly into the base of his skull, knowing the bullet would tear right through his psychotic brain and release out the center of his forehead from this angle, "Let's go for a walk."

"But the party just got started," Aizen said, knowing he was in a very difficult situation. Everyone's attention was currently on Grimmjow and Gin. Aizen had been so far back from the melee and had positioned himself in shitty lighting for dramatic effect when he had sauntered in. Starrk had known that Aizen's theatrics would aid in his death someday.

"You're going to back up, and you are going to walk out with me. Right now," Starrk's voice dripped political acid.

"You really think you're going to make it out of this alive," Aizen said, laughter in his tone, "Naughty doggie."

Starrk's hand reached into the back of Aizen's suit pants, retrieving a glock and wrapping his arm around Aizen so that it was pointed at his crotch. The man would be losing both heads tonight.

"I knew I should have put you down," Aizen sighed, "I knew my puppy had rabies."

"Woof."

**XXX**

Tousen's voice sounded like rocks in a waterfall, "You were never worthy to wear the mark."

This was the worst Christmas present ever.

Another rod. Another burn. Another scream. Everything echoed in his head, and then nothing at all. Gin had stopped screaming a long time ago.

Grimmjow wanted to wretch at the smell of his own burning flesh.

Someone kicked him in the face. Someone had mercy.

Grimmjow thought he heard Nel crying before he passed out.

**XXX**

At a quarter after midnight, Tousen inspected the two dead bodyguards, pulling his cell phone from his pocket and speed-dialing out.

He had been having so much fun destroying the useless brats that he had forgotten about the presence of his lord Aizen.

As soon as one of his men had called him over and he'd seen the amount of blood on the floor, he had known the night was not going to end as well as he had hoped. After ordering some of the Hollow members to wrap the traitors up in garbage bags and dump them, Tousen had seen to the body guards' bodies.

Only one man could have killed two men in a room full of witnesses and gotten away with it.

"Yes?" a skeptical voice answered.

"Aizen-sama," Tousen said into the receiver, feeling relieved, "You are unharmed."

"Of course I am. Do you think me weak, Kaname?"

"Of course not, Aizen-sama, but Coyote…"

"I dealt with him," Aizen drawled dismissively, "Although it is a rather terrible mess. I will need you to dispose of the body properly, the vehicle as well."

"Where are you, sir?"

"Eight blocks south, the second dock. Do hurry, Kaname. It's getting rather late."

"Yes, buchou."

"Oh, and one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Merry Christmas."

**XXX**

Ichigo lay curled up on his side on the couch, his father snoring loudly from the recliner. Yuzu had been put to bed nearly two hours earlier, Karin sound asleep on the floor by Ichigo's feet. His eyes had started to droop but he had been determined to make it through How the Grinch Stole Christmas with Japanese subtitles. The credits had been rolling for several minutes, but he didn't have the energy to get up and turn the television off. He didn't have the strength to move. He was comfortable and warm, cocooned in two blankets when his cell phone started blaring.

He dug it out of his pocket, feeling agitated at someone calling him at this time of the morning. The clock on top of the television read one a.m.

Merry Christmas.

He flipped his phone open, his brows drawing together at the unfamiliar number.

He accepted the call, holding it to his ear, "Hello?"

"I didn't know who else to call."

"What?" Ichigo was about ready to hang up. Was he drunk? Was this some kind of Christmas prank?

"It's bad, Ichigo," Shirosaki continued, his voice sounding almost panicked, "Fucking bad."

Ichigo's grip on the phone tightened as he sat forward, convinced he was going to throw up everything he had eaten that night. His breath still smelled like gingerbread cookies and eggnog.

He already knew. He already knew that this had to do with Grimmjow.

"We can't do anything. If they catch us, we're fucking dead," Shirosaki rambled, his voice going higher and higher, sounding more deranged.

"What the fuck is going on?" Ichigo whispered heatedly, getting up from the couch and to his front door, slipping a jacket over his head in less time than it took to blink, "Where are you? Where's Grimmjow?"

"_Fuck_, Ichi," Shirosaki said, his breath hitching like he was about to cry, "I don't know what to do, I – I don't know if they're fucking alive…"

Ichigo braced himself against the doorframe of the front door, his head lowered, his throat clenching and unclenching. He could feel bile in the back of his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, "_WHERE IS GRIMMJOW_?"

Ichigo heard someone in the background, the phone changing hands, "East side, the Menos complexes."

Ichigo swallowed again as he listened to Nnoitra's harsh voice, "We couldn' stay, this is the best we can fuckin' do. You're the only fuckin' person any of us trust on the outside. Get your ass _over there_."

Ichigo was fighting to breathe, "_Where is he, _Nnoitra?"

There was no hesitation, "East side, Menos complexes. The west side of the buildin', by tha' rusted fence. Look for black garbage bags."

The line went dead.


	12. Adsum

**-Tell Me Tomorrow-**

_'The moon will illuminate my room_

_and soon I'm consumed by my doom.'_

**-Chapter 12: Adsum-**

No.

Knees jarred as they met floor, palms freezing as they held him up off of the floor, held him together.

_No. No no no no no._

The fear was nearly crippling, but the adrenaline had already begun to kick in. He steadied himself, bracing himself against the front door before staggering towards the small table that graced the connecting hallway, snatching up his father's car keys before sliding back over to the front door, blindly throwing on a pair of shoes before racing out the door.

It might have slammed behind him. He didn't care.

The next twenty minutes meant nothing to Ichigo. He might as well have been driving drunk. He remembered nothing. All the turns, the roads, the dead streets. He would remember none of it. It was a miracle he made it to the east side alive.

The Menos complexes were suddenly looming to his left. He parked haphazardly, and quite illegally, on the side of the quiet street. He flung his car door open, his legs nearly giving out as he started running.

_Just keep moving. Move._

The Menos complexes were a new development project, none of the apartments made livable yet, although the surrounding buildings were still dominated by lower-income families. A rusted fence. He had said a rusted fence.

Ichigo had gone around the wrong side. No garbage bags of any kind to be found, not even a dumpster. The adrenaline had spiked, his heart threatening to rip out of his ribcage, his teeth rattling as he ran as fast as he could around the large complex.

He tore around the side of the brick building, his eyes searching wildly in the darkness. He stumbled into a metal garbage can, cringing at the noise it made as the lid fell off. He straightened himself, his hand going out to his side to support him against the brick wall as he continued to wander down the dark lane, always searching.

He almost screamed when something small and black darted out in front of him from behind a crushed construction crate, yellow eyes angry. It hissed.

Ichigo watched the cat tear off down the lane, disappearing behind what looked like another large pile of trash up against a failing chain link fence.

_Oh fuck._

Ichigo ran to it, his hands reaching out to giant trash bags bursting open with what smelled like rotten food. Old newspapers and liquor bottles fluttered and rolled, the awful smell keeping him sane.

He heaved a smaller bag out of the way, staggering when he saw pale, bloody fingers.

"Fuck!" Ichigo screamed, tearing at the large black bags furiously, ripping them, moving them, taking them away. They were ugly, ugly and wrong and in the way.

Ichigo was sobbing as he finally revealed Gin's body, his skin so pale in the moonlight. Blood matted his silver hair, making it a disturbing color. He couldn't inspect him any further. Ichigo stumbled back, his stomach rolling. He immediately began heaving, the nerves and the sight too much. After he was sure his stomach was empty and his throat felt raw, he began tearing through the trash with ferocity.

His mind was screaming for him to find blue. Blue anything.

Ichigo chanted Grimmjow's name under his breath, moving more garbage bags, his hands shaking to the point where the garbage in the bags made more noise than he did.

His foot connected with something very, very solid.

Ichigo's fingers furiously tore at more bags, hoping he wouldn't pass out as his fingers felt wet flesh.

A sob ripped out of Ichigo's chest as he began dragging the bag farther out into the lane to get it away from the rest of the trash. He had been dragging Grimmjow practically by his feet. Ichigo tore the rest of the bag away, tears falling freely now.

He threw his head directly on top of Grimmjow's chest, uncaring of the wet, sticky feeling from the blood matting to his shirt.

_Please please please please._

There. A heartbeat.

Ichigo's fingers were stiff as he pulled out his cell phone.

**XXX**

Starrk sat quietly at the Yakuza bar, beyond surprised that instrumental Christmas music was playing in the background. Jingle Bells wasn't known for striking fear into anyone.

He took another shot of whiskey, sighing deeply. He was tired. So, so tired, but the night had gone well.

"My boys will take care of everything," Barragan said from beside him, nursing his own golden scotch, "but I have to know, Starrk, how the hell did you do it? Tousen wasn't a requirement, but he was a thorn in my side."

"Trade secrets," Starrk said, not feeling like divulging any truths. Honestly it had been more than simple. It was probably the oldest trick in the book. So unoriginal it was practically annoying.

_Aizen's cell phone rang, just as Starrk had expected. Aizen was currently sitting in the driver's seat of a boosted black car, Lillynette pressed to his left temple._

_"Just like we practiced," Starrk drawled, "Don't disappoint me, Aizen."_

_"Of course," Aizen replied, looking quite unfazed as he answered the call. Starrk could here everything, even Tousen's replies. The Christmas wishes at the end had been unexpected, but then again, so Aizen._

_When he had hung up, Aizen stared straight ahead out the dashboard at the cold crescent moon and the waters it hung over, "We could have talked about this, Coyote. I knew it would have been only a matter of time before you figured out who had destroyed your family that day. I'm depressed, Starrk, losing two good dogs in one day."_

_Starrk said nothing. He knew Aizen had nothing but words now, words he would twist and pull to his benefit. He honestly thought he could charm his way out of this one._

_"You want Tousen's blood, not mine. I had ordered him to scare your family, not butcher them. Apparently Kaname has a more…righteous sense of justice than I, a brutal attack dog."_

_"And you're the mad man that let him off his chain," Starrk said darkly, "He only attacked by his master's orders."_

_"But he is still his own man: your true revenge lies with him, doesn't it? What he did to your baby sister…horrible, horrible. I am blessed to have had no siblings to worry about."_

_"Shut your fucking mouth," Starrk said, his eyes looking in the rearview mirror._

_"I assume you want me to get out of the car now?" Aizen said. Starrk could practically hear the eye roll that accompanied that statement._

_"If you don't mind. Remember to smile."_

_"A moot point. Tousen's blind."_

_"The driver isn't."_

_"Ha. You think of everything."_

_Aizen had opened the car door, stepping out and turning towards Tousen who had gotten out of his car with whatever meat head he had ordered to drive, talking lowly._

_Starrk shot through the rear window of the car, the glass shattering, the bullet nailing the driver in the forehead. He fell backward, his arms flailing as Starrk released another bullet, this one nailing Tousen in his right shoulder, his shooting arm. What a blind man was doing with a gun in the first place Starrk would never understand._

_He grunted, falling against the side of the car for support, his dreads hiding his face as he hissed at the sudden pain that had bloomed in his arm._

_"Can I go now?" Aizen asked as Starrk got out of the car, not even looking at Aizen as he lifted Lilynette and fired two shots into Aizen's torso. The man let out a pathetic yelp. Starrk went around the side of the car to inspect his handiwork on Aizen, his white suit beginning to blossom a pretty crimson._

_"I missed your lungs and your heart on purpose," he said darkly, turning away from Aizen to approach a struggling Tousen._

_"Coyote!" Tousen screamed, holding his shoulder, his teeth bared._

_"The one and only," Starrk said, firing another slug into Kaname's other shoulder. He screamed in pain, falling to his knees, his head wobbling._

_"Does it hurt?" Starrk asked rhetorically, coming closer to Kaname until his boots were standing in droplets of blood. He holstered Lilynette, grabbing Tousen's hair with a gloved hand, his other hand reaching into his white trench coat pocket. He pulled out a beautiful silver-handled filleting knife, "You shot my father in the temple. I will do that to you eventually, but not quite yet. I have other things to teach you about pain first."_

_Tousen screamed as Starrk immediately began carving at Tousen's face._

_"My mother screamed just like that," Starrk whispered, yanking his head back so that he could better see Tousen's anguished face, "You can scream all you want here. No one will hear you."_

_"You stupid bastard," Aizen gasped, holding up his cell phone, "You have no idea what you have just gotten yourself into. My men will be here in less than three minutes."_

_Starrk released his hold on Tousen, walking slowly towards Aizen, enjoying the panicked look in those brown eyes. Finally an emotion, something almost tangible in the dark orbs. Starrk was enjoying himself._

_"Well then," Starrk smirked, his boot connecting with Aizen's face, "Looks like we'll be taking a little road trip."_

He had loaded the two scumbags into the boosted car as quickly as possible and driven out of the abandoned port district. He could have easily stayed and added to his rising body count, but that would have just equaled more work.

"How troublesome," Starrk murmured, adjusting his white gloves. He had changed his ensemble and gloves after showering thoroughly this fine Christmas morning. He had been up all night after meeting up with Barragan who had gladly taken an unconscious bleeding Aizen and Tousen into custody, transporting them to a place where they could be tortured for hours without anyone knowing any better.

Starrk had thoroughly enjoyed himself. Barragan had talked to Aizen when he had regained consciousness, a farewell of sorts, a final ha-ha.

Aizen's death had been quick and uneventful. Starrk hadn't even been the one to kill him. He had allowed the honor to fall to Shawlong Qfang, Barragan's eldest son. He was basically Barragan's puppet when they began to reinstate the Hollows to their former glory known as Hogyoku.

Barragan was still wondering how he had managed to separate Aizen and Tousen from the other gang members and body guards with only two casualties.

People tended not to think of the easiest, or simplest, answer.

"A deal's a deal," Barragan said, setting his scotch down and nodding his head towards one of his newest men. Barragan had joked with him earlier about not shooting this one.

The cliché black business briefcase was laid before him and Starrk unsnapped it, lifting the lid. Ten million in unmarked U.S. bills stared back at him.

"You specifically asked for American," Barragan said, raising a grey eyebrow, "Taking off to the states, Coyote?"

"Only for a bit," Starrk said, closing the briefcase and looking at Barragan with steel blue eyes, "and the money was only half of the deal."

"Yes, of course," Barragan said, waving a hand dismissively, "You no longer carry any ties to the Hollows or Hogyoku. A clean slate for you and your little posse. I might not look it, but I keep my promises. All of them are young punks anyway. I don't need them. You have my word nothing will happen to them."

"As a personal favor, from a business standpoint," Starrk said, implying he would take one last job for Barragan in the future if he heard him out, "Jaegerjaques Grimmjow and Ichimaru Gin: make sure that there medical bills are paid in full. Anonymously, of course."

"Did you put them in the hospital?" Barragan barked with laughter, "What a good friend you are."

"I might as well have," Starrk conceded, getting up from the bar and shaking Barragan's hand, "I will be back in a year."

"How will I find you?"

Starrk offered Barragan a tilted smile, "You won't. I'll find you."

**XXX**

EMTs had rushed to the scene, lights flashing. Ichigo had no way of knowing how much time it had taken them. It could have been hours, seconds.

They found Ichigo sitting on the cold tarmac next to the bodies, arms wrapped around his legs, his eyes unfocused.

"Sir, sir," a woman repeated, getting down on her knees in front of him as two other emergency medics ran towards the bodies with gear and a stretcher, "Sir, are you alright? Were you a witness?"

A gloved hand touched his face, a small flashlight stunning his vision as it was pressed near his eye. She set the light on the other eye, checking both pupils.

"He's in shock," she called over to her teammates who were furiously talking to each other in medical lingo.

"They've got pulses," a darker-skinned man with a trimmed fro said, gloves on as he looked to his watch, his other hand on the side of Gin's throat, "Let's go, move move move."

It was a whirlwind. The medics had managed to load both gurneys, Gin and Grimmjow strapped down to boards as the woman with the nametag Lisa began to immediately hook them up to IVs and strap oxygen masks to their faces.

Ichigo was shoved in as well, unable to look at them as they drove furiously through the city, all noise and lights on a quiet Christmas morning. If you could call it morning. It wasn't even two a.m.

The other medic, a white-haired older male with a nametag that read Kensei, was currently cutting away the material on Grimmjow's chest, revealing a sickening red wound. Grimmjow's skin was so pale. Ichigo remembered when he had touched it, it had felt like ice.

Something began beeping, Grimmjow's body convulsing, his eyes flickering open only to roll back in his head, his fingers locking.

"He's hemorrhaging!" Kensei said heatedly, both gloved hands pressed over the wound in an attempt stop the newly-opened wound.

"Blood pressure dropping," Lisa said, her voice matter-of-fact but her eyes a controlled panic.

"Going into peripheral hypoperfusion," Kensei said, beginning to press his hands rhythmically at the top of Grimmjow's chest.

"Shock," Ichigo said, still staring at Grimmjow's now limp body. Peripheral hypoperfusion. What a big word for something so simple. He had heard it enough times from his father to know.

"Yes," Lisa said, now prying open one of Grimmjow's eyes to check the pupils with her flashlight, "we need an immediate blood transfusion. He's in excellent physical shape; it takes longer before experiencing cardiovascular collapse. Your quick call and his physical fitness may in fact save his life."

_May?_

All too soon the ambulance had stopped, the medics throwing open the back doors, gurneys running, doctors and nurses in the hallways. He had stopped staring at them after the woman had said something so impossible. _May? _

_Maybe, maybe not._

_Perhaps. _

A tiny nurse with gentle eyes guided him to a plastic chair in a sterilized waiting room. It smelled like floor cleaner and dust. Old magazines with ripped edges, a humming vending machine. A sobbing old woman.

He sat. And sat and sat, and he was perfectly content.

_Maybe. Perhaps. Could._

Another nurse approached him, probably an intern. She flitted and fretted over him, asking him if he'd like a coffee or something warm to drink. Perhaps tea?

He blinked, his neck too sore to move. His fingers flexed, his lungs collapsed.

Blackness swallowed his world.

"Sir!" the girl squealed, yelling shrilly for something Ichigo couldn't hear.

He couldn't breathe. He gasped.

_I can't breathe._ Gasp. _I can't I can't...I can't..._

"Kurosaki-kun," a gentle voice said, a small warm hand running along his spine, up and down as if to create warmth, "Kurosaki-kun, you are experiencing a panic attack. Please take a deep, deep breath through your nose and release out of your mouth. Please."

_I can't. _

He was doubled over in his chair, the vision clearing. Sparks of whiteness shot through the blackness that had come on so suddenly, his chest burning, his eyes stinging.

Gasp. Shallow breath.

"There you are," the woman continued, her hand on his back now making small, comforting circles, "Just like that."

His hands shook as they gripped his knees, his head now level between them. His vision was still watery as he stared down at the white tiles, unsure if it was tears or the sudden attack. He had never had one before. It was one of the scariest moments of his life.

Gasp. Breath.

_Breathe. Breathing._

"Everything will be fine."

_Bullshit. _

"You saved their lives, Kurosaki-kun. You saved their lives."

_Gasp. Breath._

"You can do this. I know it's hard."

_You don't know. You don't know anything. What has he done to me?_

"Relax. Just focus on your breathing."

_Impossible. _

"Mr. Jaegerjaques's blood transfusion was a success. Mr. Ichimaru was moved to ICU for better inspection. Burns and cracked ribs, but he'll be conscious in no time."

_Stop talking. Stop making me think. _

"Relax."

_I can't. You don't know. What did he do? Why did he do this to me?_

"Police will find out who did this," she said, her voice sounding caring yet vengeful, "Even if it is associated with gang violence, I cannot tolerate anyone hurting children."

_Children. Children._

Ichigo lifted his head slightly, his breathing more even and deep as he centered himself.

_Grimmjow turns eighteen tomorrow. Tomorrow. He'll be alive tomorrow._

"Very good, Kurosaki-kun," the woman smiled, her face familiar and comforting. She had been on her knees at his side, talking him down the entire time, and he had never thought to wonder who it could be that would know his name. Kurakura General. Of course. She was on the wrong floor, wrong department. It made Ichigo's heart hurt to know she cared that much.

"Unohana-san," Ichigo murmured, his voice raspy.

"I called your father. I'll stay with you until he gets here."

Ichigo flung his arms around Unohana's shoulders, burying his face into her white lab coat.

**XXX**

It had felt good to be held by a mother again. At his age, perhaps it had been childish, but Ichigo had needed it in that moment. He had needed that calm, reassuring voice. That gentleness. When Ichigo had finally released her after an unknowable amount of time, she took the empty seat next to him, the front of her lab coat smeared slightly with blood.

Ichigo controlled his breathing, remembering.

It was Grimmjow's blood. It had to be all over the side of his face. He could feel it dried and crusted on his ear from listening for a pulse. He tentatively touched the neckline of his jacket, looking down at the red smears.

Unohana's hand gently pried his fingers away, lacing them with her own at their side, gaining his attention, "You were very brave tonight, Kurosaki-kun. I'm so proud of you."

Ichigo felt exhausted, "I can't even cry."

"You're going through shock and are recovering from a panic attack. Tears can come later."

Ichigo knew she was trying to be helpful, but it sounded almost comical, like she was teasing. "I'm a mess."

"Yes you are," she said with a small smile, "your father will have a panic attack of his own."

Ichigo snorted, gripping Unohana's hand more tightly. His brain synapses had regressed, the adrenaline gone. He was running on fumes.

Maybe that was why he said it.

"You're a great mom."

Unohana inclined her head, her intelligent eyes studying his face, "Hm?"

"Why aren't you guys married yet?" Ichigo blurted.

Her face grew pink, averting her eyes, "He already asked me."

"Yeah?"

"M-hm," she said, nodding slightly and smiling, looking at Ichigo with unexplainable happiness, "He asked me even before...before I realized..."

Her smile was uncontrollable at this point as she lifted their joined hands, bringing Ichigo's hand to rest on top of her stomach.

Ichigo's eyes widened, "Wha - r-really?"

"We would both like a June wedding," she said, releasing her hold on his hand. Ichigo kept it there stupidly for several more seconds before letting his hand drop, "but...we're not sure now because of the baby. We were going to tell you together, honest, but...you just suddenly got me all emotional! Having such a wonderful bonding moment!"

Ichigo stared at her as she suddenly started to cry, wiping at her eyes. Ichigo felt helpless, "I'm excited for you guys. Really."

"I'm sorry. Sorry. Pregnancy hormones. They're much too strong for this early stage," Unohana sniffled, wiping at her eyes again, "I'm just really happy, Kurosaki-kun."

"Ichigo. Call me Ichigo."

**XXX**

Around seven a.m., Isshin arrived at the hospital, worried eyes falling on Ichigo who was currently lying across several chairs, completely knocked out. Unohana got up from her chair where she had been filling out paperwork to keep herself busy. She was still on the clock, after all.

"Isshin, he's fine," she said before he could go into overly-concerned-parent-panic mode, "He's exhausted. He just fell asleep."

"I would have come sooner, but the girls..."

"Everything's fine," she said, placing her hands on his arms and rubbing soothingly as he took a deep breath, "I know he scared you, but everything will work itself out."

"How did he know?" Isshin mumbled, looking at his sleeping son, his face unrelaxed even in sleep, "How did he know where they were in the middle of the night? He was on the couch when I drifted off..."

"He'll answer when he's ready," Unohana said almost sternly, "We can't answer everything right now, but you should be proud of him. He saved two teenagers' lives."

"Who were they?" Isshin had turned his attention back to his future wife, "I didn't even ask you."

Unohana picked up a clipboard of paperwork, looking down at the names she had forgotten, "Ichimaru Gin and Jaegerjaques Grimmjow."

Isshin's face fell in recognition, "I've heard Gin's name once or twice, but Grimmjow...Grimmjow means everything to him."

Isshin looked back over at Ichigo, unable to help his concern. He didn't know what he would have done if either boy had been declared dead. He didn't know how Ichigo would have handled it after having another important person in his life taken away from him.

Unohana nodded her head, "We talked a bit. He...I think..."

"What?"

Unohana shook her head, putting on a smile. Ichigo hadn't exactly spelled it out, but if Isshin was in the dark about it, Unohana had no intentions of revealing anything until Ichigo was good and ready, "I think they are the closest of friends."

"Yeah," Isshin said, scratching his head, "Ichigo's never had a best friend before. He really got close to Blue real fast. He comes over all the time, and Ichigo disappears a lot too."

Unohana wanted to giggle: she loved how thick Isshin could be. It was adorable at times. She got on her tip toes and kissed his stubbled cheek, "I think it's best that you take Kurosaki home for now to get some proper rest. I'll call later in the afternoon with the boys' progress so that Ichigo won't worry. He won't be able to visit them for a few more hours, anyway."

"Alright," he said, pecking her on the lips one more time before turning toward his sleeping son. Ichigo was very agreeable when he was sleepy, so it didn't take much for Isshin to nudge him out of his slumber and get him to walk down the hallway with some support. He mumbled a few times when Isshin asked him questions, the doctor side of his brain being logical about the unidentifiable blood on his son and the father side having a massive heart attack.

He sighed again when he buckled Ichigo into the car he had retrieved earlier that morning from the site, thankful he had hidden his spare set of keys in the bedroom. He'd be having a long talk with Ichigo about the entire mixed up situation later.

**XXX**

Gin groaned, his body feeling like it was on fire. Actually, to be more accurate, he felt like he had been beaten to death and _then_ given third degree burns by an iron rod. He distinctly remembered that same rod hitting him repeatedly in the side before violently being bashed across the side of his head once.

Thank the gods he had blacked out after that.

He hadn't opened his eyes yet, but the memories of _why_ he was hurting didn't cancel out the confusion of realizing he was alive. In so much goddamn pain, but still alive. He moaned slightly as he tried to lift his head, hissing when fiery pain exploded behind his eyes and he fell back against the pillow. That had been a very, very stupid idea.

"He's movin'."

Gin wanted to open his eyes to confront the familiar voice, but he couldn't find it in him just yet. He could feel the needle pricks of IVs, the scratchy and uncomfortable feeling of what had to be gauze. He heard beeping monitors that were responsible for reading his heart rate. The skin on the right side of his face felt tight, uncomfortable. Stitches? Gauze?

He smelled antiseptic, sweat, and piss. He was definitely in a hospital.

"Call the nurse," another voice said, "His face is all pinched up. Definitely hurtin'. He's due for another shot of morphine."

"Aye aye, cap'n," the other voice replied, hitting a button, "Oi, nursie, we need'ya. Ma' buddy here just came back from tha' dead and don't look too good. Meds'd help. How 'bout you hurry that sweet lil' ass over here?"

Gin smirked, about the only thing he could do without feeling shooting pain through his head, neck, or chest. Even his toes tingled. Shirosaki was such an ass. Gin wondered how he got away with it as often as he did.

"Either 'ya passed out again or yer hurtin' too much 'ta open 'yer eyes," Nnoitra said haughtily, "Either way, you fuckin' scared the shit out of us, mother fucker."

"Ya should've fuckin' told us!" Shirosaki agreed, his voice manic, "Yer such a fuckin' idiot. We woulda'...we could'a...shit!"

Gin sighed, which made his chest feel like an elephant had just sat on it, "We'd be dead."

That silenced the room. Gin assumed Shirosaki and Nnoitra were staring at each other. Yes, if that many people had stood up to Tousen, to Aizen, the night would have assuredly seen all four comrades in a morgue. It had been risky enough with two. And Gin knew that Shirosaki and Nnoitra had nothing. Their families were decimated, they had no promising aspects with school. Nnoitra looked like he wouldn't even graduate, Shirosaki not much better off. The gang was all they had ever had. Gin still didn't regret his decision not to tell them. It'd been as much to get himself out as to protect his friends, but he had done it for another reason that none of them were yet aware of.

Starrk's call had been unexpected, but after Starrk had sworn that if he succeeded in the assassination that night, they could all walk free, start a new life. He had explained to Gin that he needed a thorough distraction, something even Aizen wouldn't have been able to predict. All of Gin's career in the Hollows, he had played the role of perfect pupil, doing anything and everything to make sure Aizen thought he was a loyal believer. Hell, he had even gone to the Reapers and betrayed them to make Aizen happy. He had pushed drugs for years to make Aizen happy, drugs that had aided in the downfall of his own father. Aizen was the reason his father had become a drug addict in the first place. How could Gin have refused? He and Starrk had hated Aizen from the beginning, both of their lives ruined through the megalomaniac.

Now they could all be free of him, for good. Forever. Even Grimmjow.

"Grimm," Gin wheezed, trying to get back to a breathing that didn't hurt his chest so much.

"They won' let us see 'im yet," Nnoitra answered, "Yer both in ICU, both had a blood transfusion, but the doc said that Grimm went into cardiac arrest several times."

The monitor's went haywire as Gin's heart rate excellerated, his nostrils flaring as he forced his eyes open.

"Chill, chill!" Shirosaki growled, his arms held out over the bed as if he were a magician, "They brought him back. The last time...the last time he was flatlined for nearly three minutes. He's stabilized now, but they're not sure when he'll wake up. Ya' suffered a major concussion, but'cha woke up sooner than they said ya would."

The monitor was still beeping quickly, but Gin had closed his eyes again, the throbbing pain behind his eyes worse than a migraine, "How long?"

"Four days," Nnoitra huffed.

"Oh my!" a woman exclaimed, bursting through the private room's door holding a clipboard, her eyes large, "Ichimaru-san, you need to calm down! Those rates are much too high."

Gin managed to see through the slits of his eyes, his body feeling in even more pain as he looked at his nurse. Was hell taunting him?

"Rangiku's been takin' good care'a yah," Shirosaki cackled, knowing the young woman had had the hots for Gin for nearly a year. Whenever they went to the club, Gin teased her on the dance floor, and now there was no true way for him to escape. Except for the painkillers, maybe.

Gin groaned as the busty, gorgeous woman approached his bedside, writing a few things down on her clipboard and jutting her ass out as she bent down to inspect another monitor. Shirosaki was practically drooling. Gin thought he was going to be sick.

"Okay, Gin-kun, time for some painkillers!" she announced in a sing-song voice, pulling a hypodermic needle from...from somewhere on her supermodel body and injecting it into one of the multiple plastic tubing contraptions, "Nighty-night, sleep tight!"

"Anythin' 'ta 'git...away..." Gin struggled, unbelieving that it could be affecting him this quickly. His tongue felt heavy, "from you."

"Save that energy! You're going to need it for physical therapy," Rangiku chimed, running one manicured fingernail along a patch of skin on his arm devoid of needles, gauze, or bruises.

"Ya can use me fer physical therapy," Nnoitra grumbled.

Rangiku continued on, completely ignoring him, "You managed to break several bones in your foot, so you're required to take at least two months of physical therapy. I've already sent in my request! I'm so glad I earned a second degree for physical therapy. We'll be seeing a lot of each other from now on, cutie pie!"

The words got all liquidy as Gin had already closed his eyes completely, thankful for the soothing, cool darkness that seemed to be flooding his bloodstream. He was seriously beginning to regret his teasing attitude towards women. If he survived this, he swore he'd never tease or lead one on again.

**XXX**

Ichigo sat at the kitchen table, molding clay with Yuzu. Isshin had bought her a tub of it as one of her Christmas gifts and she had been very excited to try it out.

Yuzu's cat was turning out incredibly cute, and it made Ichigo's chest hurt. It made him think of Grimmjow's Christmas cookie.

"That's really good, Yuz," Ichigo said with a small smile.

"When it dries, I'm, um, going to paint it blue," Yuzu said happily, working very hard on the small cat tail.

"Why?" Ichigo asked, his brows drawing together.

"For Grimm," Yuzu chirped, her face happy, "Will you take me...with you to, to see him next time? I want, I want him to have it."

Ichigo fought a lump in his throat, "S-sure, Yuz."

"Good," Yuzu nodded, finally attaching the tail to the clay body, "Grimm is like, is just like a cat."

Ichigo looked at Yuzu with raised brows, forgetting his clay ball.

"Like a stray cat. They bite and, and they scratch sometimes, but...but they can be good," Yuzu said, staring at her sculpture proudly before looking at Ichigo, "They can be wild, but that's, that's because...um...they never had anything. He's warm, and, and protective. I think...I just thought...if I could make something for Grimm-kun, something like this to protect him, he would get better."

Ichigo honestly didn't understand his sister sometimes. She was too pure, too perfect. He smashed his clay ball, flattening it against the wood.

He started over.

**XXX**

Grimmjow's eyes opened, a low voice grumbling like thunder from somewhere in the room. It had dragged him out of that half-state, where you're not sure if you're awake or dreaming. He would recognize that voice anywhere.

He tilted his neck slightly, surprised at the amount of pain that simple action caused. He sucked in a breath, making the voice stop.

"The idiot's awake," Kenpachi announced.

Grimmjow's head felt all muggy, all wrong. He suddenly had the urge to throw up. He blinked again, trying to clear his senses.

"Grimmy!"

Grimmjow reacted instinctually, cursing under his breath as his body jerked at the sound of Nel's voice.

"Stupid, don't move," Kenpachi growled, grabbing Nel before she could reach the hospital bed, "Chill out, Monster. You can look, but don't touch."

She nodded feverishly, her grey eyes huge as they looked at Grimmjow.

Grimmjow hurt all over. Everywhere, but the adoration in his little sister's eyes was like a painkiller.

"Nel," he husked. His throat felt like sandpaper.

"Grimmy," Nel said when Kenpachi released his hold on Nel's shoulder. She approached the bed slowly, her head barely reaching over the height of the bed. He angled his head, ignoring the pain to look at her. He wanted to hug her so bad it physically hurt, and he was in no position to add more pain to his arsenal. Thankfully his bed had been tilted upwards, allowing his upper body to be up high enough to look down at her.

He said the first thing that came to mind, "Love you."

Her eyes instantly filled with tears, making his chest hurt more than it already did. He moved one of his hands slowly, setting it over his abdomen where most of the pain was concentrated. He didn't want to look at all of the tubes and IVs hanging off of him. He smelled antiseptic, but even stronger than that was the smell of his own sweat. He could swear he could smell the salt, taste copper in the back of his mouth. It was dryer than stuffing his mouth with cotton.

Kenpachi approached the bedside, his massive hand moving to the side rolling table and picking up a glass of water which had a straw, "Here."

He held it up close to Grimmjow's lips, Grimmjow sucking it down greedily. He kept drinking, actually feeling pissed off when Kenpachi pulled it away from him.

"You have to take it slow. You've been taking liquids through your IVs for over a week."

Over a week? He'd been unconscious for over a week? "Wha?"

"Nine days," Kenpachi said, putting the cup back down on the side table and picking up Nel to rest her on his hip so she could see Grimmjow better. She was still sniffling, a fist held up to her mouth, "You missed New Year's, jerk wad."

"Language," Grimmjow growled as he tried to shift his leg, hissing the last of the word as he realized movement equalled pain.

"Fine," Kenpachi said, looking at Nel's face before looking at Grimmjow again, switching languages and launching into the German Grimmjow had been teaching him over the years. Nel hadn't grown up with their father and been exposed to the language; it was as foreign to her as English. She knew a few words Grimmjow had taught her, but nothing like this, "You're a fucking idiot. What the fuck were you thinking? Running off and pulling shit like this? Nel screamed for hours after I told her you were in the hospital. When I got the call from Ichigo on fucking Christmas day!"

Grimmjow hadn't been able to look at Kenpachi as he ranted, his voice deep and guttural and full of malice. Shit. He really fucking cared. He could read between the lines. Grimmjow had scared the living hell out of him. And he'd hurt Nel in the process, the one person he'd been trying to protect from the beginning.

Kenpachi reverted back to Japanese. He wasn't that great at German, after all, "You've been in and out of consciousness for the past two days, but this is the first time you've been awake long enough to be yelled at properly."

"Sorry."

"Like that's gonna cut it."

Grimmjow looked at the side table, wanting more water. He felt his eyebrows draw together as he noticed some colorful things he was not particularly fond of. A scarlet-pink.

"Flowers."

Kenpachi grunted, "Isshin insisted. He picked them out especially for you."

Grimmjow's eyes widened. Wonders never ceased. Grimmjow had talked to Isshin plenty of times, but it was usually Isshin doing all the talking. Grimmjow had never been good at small talk, especially small talk with a middle-aged weirdo who drop-kicked his son for fun, "Oh."

"There's other, other stuff too," Nel hiccuped, finished with her tears. Kenpachi set her down when she wiggled. She picked something else up off of the table, something that had been behind the flower pot. She approached the bed, holding it up high enough for him to see.

A little blue cat stared back at him. It looked like a little kid had done it. Grimm smiled, "Thanks, Nel. That's really good."

"It wasn't me," Nel said with a gap-toothed smile, "Yuzu made it for you. She said it was to protect you, to make you get better."

Damn. Grimmjow's insides were turning into mush, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the painkillers or the water absorbing into his stomach. No, it was probably because a little girl had cared enough about him to make him something. Shit.

"And there's other stuff too, but you can't eat it," Kenpaachi said smugly, showing his teeth in a smile, "I've been eating the cookies your boyfriend's been making. I don't know what possessed him to do it, knowing you couldn't eat them, but he brings them every day anyway."

Grimmjow shifted in the bed, ignoring the pain for the umpteenth time, the heart monitor going ballistic at the mention of Ichigo, "Ichi? He was here?"

Kenpachi shook his head, arms folded over his wide chest, "Every day for hours. He just sits here, staring at you. Nel and me come when we can, Yachi came a few times, but that kid...I talked to one of the nurses, and she said he's here for four or more hours a day."

Grimmjow closed his eyes, wishing Ichigo were there with him right then. He didn't know what to say. What _could_ he say? The fact that he had shown up to see him at all would have been comforting, but to know he had been there the most...

Wait. "Who found me?"

Kenpachi looked at Grimmjow with a steady, dark gaze before answering, "Ichigo."

Grimmjow's monitors went haywire again, his breath hitching as panic took over his body. He moved both arms to his abdomen this time, wincing at the pain of the sudden movements.

_What? How? How how how? No, the last person in the world he had ever, ever wanted to get involved in his gang life, and...Ichigo had found him? Saved his life?_

_And he still comes. He comes to see me, after everything he went through. _

Ichigo's voice was filling his head, his ears. "Let me take care of you."

A doctor walked in at that moment, her face gentle, her black hair extremely long and in a braid. She approached the bedside quickly, looking at the stats and a monitor before administering a needle into the crook of his arm. How had she gotten here so fast?

She answered his question for him, "Your room is monitored to the nurse's station. I got here as quickly as possible. This will help you relax, dull some of the pain, although I can't give you anything much stronger at the moment. We need to monitor you for the next several hours, perform some tests. I'll also be checking on those stitches on your abdomen. I need you to relax and do your best not to move; three of your ribs were fractured and they need to set nicely if you want to get out of here as quickly as possible. You also suffered internal bleeding. You went into cardiac arrest three times. For your body to survive all this trauma, there's got to be a reason that you're still alive and fighting."

Grimmjow stared blankly at the doctor, his chest heaving as he tried to calm himself down. The drug began taking effect immediately, feeling like ice in his veins. It wasn't altogether unpleasant, but it was strange.

She looked at him with large, intelligent eyes, her hand pushing the wild hair back off of his forehead almost tenderly, "You must be very confused, but I promise you, if you rest, I will answer everything to the best of my knowledge when you're stronger. Your body shut down and was unconscious so long for a reason; you need to allow your body to rest, to catch up and heal itself. You're anxious, but you need to focus on getting better for now."

Grimmjow didn't want to focus. He didn't want to get better. Why he was here, why it happened, it was all murky right now. He remembered the pain, the iron, the smell of his burning flesh. He tilted his head slightly to look down at his arm, lifting it until the IVs strained.

"Grimmjow-kun."

Grimmjow ignored her soft voice as he stared at the gauze wrapping on his forearm, his stomach churning. It had happened. They'd burned his skin, marked him forever.

More images flooded his memory now. He heard Gin's scream, Tousen's words of darkness. His back arching off of the floor at the stinging pain, the kicks to the face, to his sides. His abdomen seemed to flare with righteous pain, his entire chest feeling like a hot skillet had been set on top of it.

But the painkillers were working, his breathing returning to normal as he remembered Nel was in the room, watching him, worried. He had to be careful, if not for himself, at least for her.

The monitors began to change, slowly but surely, his heart rate becoming more stable.

"Thank you," she murmured, bowing slightly, "I will return shortly. I must go make another evaluation on Gin-sama."

Grimmjow looked at her again at the mention of his best friend. Thank the gods. His mind had been too full of Ichigo to have even remembered to ask. He felt like such a shitty friend, "He's alive."

"Yes," she replied, Grimmjow noticing the silver name plate on her white lab coat. UNOHANA , "He has fractured ribs as well, a broken foot, and suffered brutal head trauma, but he has been conscious for five days. He's doing very well and wishes to see you. Perhaps in a few more days I can have you two moved to a double room to stave off boredom."

Grimmjow had never been a fan of hospitals or doctors, but this one was quickly becoming his favorite. She was pretty cool, "That would...be awesome."

She smiled. Grimmjow liked her smile. It was the smile of a genuinely kind person, something extremely rare for Grimmjow to come across, "I think you will both be just fine."

Grimmjow hoped so.

Ichigo stood in the hallway in muddy black Converse, ripped jeans, and a red hoodie. It clashed terribly with his hair, but he didn't care. He hadn't been caring about a lot of things lately.

The holiday break had ended, forcing students back into school life, but Ichigo had barely been doing his homework. He had slipped completely off of his pedestal. He didn't even know who he was anymore. Ever since learning that Gin and Grimmjow would live, that they would be _alive _to be seen the next day, Ichigo hadn't even given a second thought to his college entrance exams. He'd already applied to several art colleges behind Grimmjow's back, but other than that, he ignored everything else.

He adjusted the messenger bag on his shoulder, sighing as he opened the door to the double hospital room. Grimmjow and Gin had been roommates for nearly two weeks, completely bored out of their minds, even if Shirosaki, Nnoitra, and himself came as often as possible. Gin was being released the following day, his foot in a cast, but Grimmjow still had a few more days, if he was a really good boy and didn't make a fuss and rested more. The burns on both of them were scarred completely over; Unohana had explained to him that third degree burns burned the nerve endings so completely that they weren't even painful, but third degree burns were surrounded by second and first degree burns, which _did _hurt. Both Grimm's and Gin's forearms were scarred, mottling the colorful tattoo until it was morphed and pretty unrecognizable, the skin a dark, purplish brown. The bruises that had been all over their bodies were faded or completely gone. They were both healing extremely well. They had both been in the hospital for just over a month now. They might have been released earlier, but Unohana was a very serious doctor and had taken charge of them as soon as she had realized how important they were to Ichigo. Besides, all their medical expenses were being paid for by an anonymous benefactor, which Ichigo had immediately associated with the gang, but that couldn't have been true. After all, hadn't the gang intended on letting them die in an alley way, covered in garbage bags?

Grimmjow had been staring out the window of the double room, Gin asleep in the bed that was stationed beside his own. He turned to look at Ichigo when he heard the door click closed behind him. Ichigo offered him a tired smile, shuffling forward.

"I brought some schoolwork," Ichigo said quietly, not wanting to wake Gin up, "You've been stuck in here so long, I think even homework sounds good at this point, ne?"

The corner of Grimm's mouth turned up, his blue eyes bright. Ichigo was so glad the bandages were gone, the IVs no longer needed except for...well, how else was he supposed to go to the bathroom?

"I could write equations right now," Grimm said, laying back on the starchy pillows, his hair down. Ichigo had grown so used to seeing it down or slicked back that he barely remembered what it looked like with gel, "doesn't mean I want to."

Ichigo snorted, taking the empty fold out chair near the bed. He sat down, unable to keep his eyes off of the living, breathing Grimmjow. He didn't want to think about garbage bags and darkness, about coldness and blood. He was going to push it all away, pack it all away in a neat little box to be sorted through later, when they were ready for it. Neither had spoken about that night yet; neither were ready. Ichigo knew Grimmjow knew. That just made it harder.

"The teachers are being very understanding of the situation. Nobody's rushing you on this work. You can both still graduate," Ichigo said, opening the messenger bag and pulling out two notebooks and a few texts and setting them on the moveable table. He noticed that most of Grimmjow's flowers had died, but he had refused to throw them away. Ichigo's heart fluttered when he saw the little blue cat statue, Nel's stuffed gold lion which she had named Kon keeping it company, along with his pocket medical dictionary.

"I asked Kenpachi to bring it," Grimmjow said, looking at Ichigo with those electric blue eyes, "Unohana...Unohana doesn't know what happened to my wallet chain. She said it might have been lost or thrown away when they cut my clothes."

Ichigo nodded his head in understanding, his throat clenching. Shit. Grimmjow had taken it with him that night? After he'd yelled at him? Accused him of lying? Of not caring?

"I love you," Ichigo blurted, meeting Grimmjow's eyes, "You know that, right?"

Grimmjow's grin was slow, more gorgeous than a sunrise, "You tell your old man?"

Ichigo nodded his head up and down, his face flushed, "He...I think he took it well. I...I told Unohana first, and she encouraged me."

Grimmjow raised his eyebrows, surprised, "You told my doctor before your own dad?"

Ichigo smiled at Grimmjow, surprising him, "Unohana's engaged to my dad. They're having a baby."

Grimmjow _had _noticed how emotional the doctor had been. To be honest, she could be a bit bi-polar, but he had just assumed that was her personality, "Oh."

"There's a lot we have to catch up on," Ichigo said, running his hand through his orange locks, not meeting Grimmjow's eyes, "A lot."

Grimmjow knew exactly what he meant, and he wasn't looking forward to it. He didn't know how to feel about it. New and old feelings clashed. Shame, regret, anger, all of it was locked away inside of him. But he couldn't just walk away from Ichigo. It was too late for that.

Grimmjow sucked in a breath. _Fuck. When did it happen?_

"I've gotta go," Ichigo said, standing up and leaning over the bed, planting a chaste kiss on Grimmjow's forehead, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

He had wanted to say it. The words had been there, lodged in his throat, his damn pride standing in the way. He knew it was too late _not _to accept it.

The door closed behind the berry, the room quiet once again.

Grimmjow stared at the door, "Shit."

Gin smirked, unnoticed.

**I couldn't stay away. I felt bad about the cliffhanger. A teensy more drama and smut. Finally. Please review: I would love feedback on this chapter. It was very difficult; I changed it three times o,O**


	13. Animi

**-Tell Me Tomorrow-**

'All this nonsense,

innocence,

common sense,

consequence.'

**-Chapter Thirteen: Animi-**

Grimmjow stared at the small package Ichigo had just set in his lap. It was white and tied with a blue ribbon. His eyebrows drew together and he assumed this was a coming home present. He'd been released from the hospital a few days ago and had been resting a lot so he hadn't been able to see Ichigo for a while.

He'd been so happy to see Ichigo walk through his bedroom door, a smile on his face as he plopped the package in his lap.

"What's this?" he asked, turning it over in his fingers.

"Open it."

Grimmjow untied the bow and lifted the lid to the box, moving the tissue wrap out of the way and staring down at a long metallic chain. He pulled it out, immediately knowing what it was. The 15 charm glinted back at him and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"You got me a new one," Grimmjow murmured, still staring at it before looking up at Ichigo, "Thank you."

Ichigo shook his head side-to-side, making Grimmjow's brows draw together again. How had he found it? Had he gone back to the alley? Had it been in the garbage? Had it been in the warehouse?

"It's the original," Ichigo said quietly before pain sliced across the side of Grimmjow's face as Ichigo slapped him once, hard, "Shirosaki remembered seeing Renji take it as some kind of sick trophy. Nnoitra and Shirosaki went with me to…_retrieve_ it the other night."

Grimmjow put a hand to the side of his face, the skin heated and irritated from the slap. Shit. He'd deserved that.

Ichigo was by the side of his bed now, his hands on either side of Grimmjow's face, forcing Grimmjow to look at him, "You will NEVER know what I went through that night, Grimmjow, because I will NEVER do something so STUPID, so SELFISH, so IDIOTIC to you. EVER. Don't you EVER put yourself in danger like that again, do you understand me?"

Grimmjow took a deep breath, glad that Ichigo had waited until he was nearly one hundred percent healed to slap him like that. Grimmjow had deserved it the moment he had woken up in the hospital, but Ichigo had waited. So this was his true wrath. He was more angry than Grimmjow had ever seen him.

But Grimmjow was angry too. His hands lifted to tighten around Ichigo's wrists, his eyes hard, "You went after Renji? Are you suicidal? I told you to never…"

"Now that Aizen's gone, Barragan won't allow the Soul Reapers to fuck around anymore. Renji won't come near us again," Ichigo said, placing a kiss over the spot he had slapped, "You're too reckless. You need to think about the people who give a fuck about what happens to you."

Grimmjow breathed in and out through his nose a few times, quieting his breathing. Everything Ichigo was saying was absolutely right, and Grimmjow felt a bit of shame towards his attitude. He should have trusted more, should have thought things through a little more effectively. He had definitely learned his lesson.

And he was alive. He'd never take risks like that ever again.

And it was all over. Everything was over. Shirosaki and Nnoitra had told him all about Aizen's disappearance, how his body had been found days later washed up in the Karakura river. Starrk had left him a voice message, a cryptic one but Grimmjow had been able to get the gist of what had gone down.

And most of it had been unloaded on Ichigo through several different people, several different perspectives.

And he'd forgiven him anyway. He hadn't walked away, like Grimmjow had been expecting him to do for months.

He'd been waiting for Ichigo to come to his senses, and the whole time it had been Grimmjow that had needed to come to his senses.

How ironic.

How cliché. He had everything he needed. He didn't have the perfect family. Hell, did anyone? And he didn't have a girlfriend; he didn't have what society expected of him. But fuck all of that shit, because the boy standing next to him was so much more than a stupid girl could ever be to him, even though it had taken him so long to admit it to himself.

All he had to do now was admit it to Ichigo.

Ichigo had fallen silent after his little rant, finally releasing his hold on Grimmjow's face and backing up slightly away from the bed, Grimmjow's hands falling to his sides as he'd let Ichigo's wrists free some time ago during his epiphany episode.

"Barragan said he'd send you the money that was stolen, and some money to replace the wallet," Ichigo said, running a hand through his hair, "I have to go pick up Karin from soccer practice."

"Call me later?" Grimmjow said quietly, unsure of what had happened to his voice.

Ichigo nodded, leaving the bedroom without a glance back.

Grimmjow rested his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, practicing the words he so desperately wanted to say silently on his lips.

**XXX**

Ichigo tore open the envelope with fervor, his fingers trembling as he read the contents of the rather thick manilla envelope.

Then he shrieked at the tops of his lungs.

"Ichi-nii?" Karin called, running into the kitchen area in her soccer cleats. She had been about to go play soccer with her newest friend, a red-headed punk named Jinta that Ichigo wasn't particularly fond of but seemed to have a particularly strong attachment to Karin. They got along well, so Ichigo wasn't complaining.

"I did it," Ichigo murmured, still staring at the professional papers with a collegiate seal, "I got in!"

Karin was suddenly hugging him fiercely as he twirled her around the kitchen, completely uncaring that this was extremely out of character for them.

"What are my beautiful children doing?" Isshin cried happily, beaming from the hallway in a smudged white t-shirt and loose blue pants covered in rubber duckies. It was a Saturday afternoon, which meant Isshin was comatose to the world as he watched pointless marathons on t.v. and ate cereal most of the day, "Daddy wants a hug too!"

"You don't deserve one, goat face," Karin said, sending her father a glare as she released her brother, "You're not the one that just got into a prestigious art college on full academic scholarship."

"What?" Isshin's eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he raced over to his grinning son, "Really, Ichigo? You…you did it?"

Ichigo couldn't control his smile of triumph, "I honestly…I wasn't expecting…I mean, I sent in my drawing portfolio and my guidance counselor sent my transcripts and academic records and…I just didn't…"

Ichigo was suddenly crushed in a bear-hug deathtrap by his father, all his breathing suddenly cut off.

"MY SON!" Isshin shrieked, jumping up and down while still holding him before finally releasing him and clapping him so hard on the shoulder Ichigo suspected he would bruise, "Daddy's so proud of you, son! My number one son! We must celebrate!"

"Dad, relax," Ichigo huffed, rubbing his shoulder as he set the papers down on the counter.

"How can I relax? You're finally pursuing a dream, my perfect son! This is what you want, isn't it?"

Ichigo wanted to laugh at his father's shiny focused eyes and wanted to hug him all over again.

"Yeah," Ichigo said thickly, fighting emotion, "This is exactly what I want."

"And it's not far," Karin murmured, looking at the collegiate seal, "It's only a few hours away. You can come home on weekends!"

"I have to call Unohana," Isshin said happily, grabbing the phone and punching in numbers blindly, "She's going to be so proud!"

"I'll be back later, Ichi-nii," Karin said, her cheeks flushed as she picked up her forgotten soccer ball, "Jinta's waiting and…"

"Go have fun," Ichigo said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand, "I'm heading out myself. I'll see you tonight."

"Ok," Karin smiled, running from the house and slamming the door behind her.

"Don't stay out too late, Ichigo!" Isshin called after him as he babbled on the phone to his fiancé, "We're all going out tonight to celebrate! Wherever you want! Oh, bring your boyfriend too! Grimmjow has to come and celebrate with us!"

"He has work tonight," Ichigo replied, already by the front door and putting on a pair of white Vans, "but I'll be back later. When does Yuzu get home?"

"The field trip was out of town, so they shouldn't be back until after six. Just call around then and we'll work out the plans!" Isshin gushed, turning back to his phone and launching into how perfect and wonderful his one and only son was to Unohana. Honestly Ichigo didn't know how she put up with him sometimes. He was such an emotionally driven person and could be quite eccentric.

Ichigo shook his head side to side, a smile still managing to creep its way onto his face as he closed the front door behind him.

**XXX**

"Are you serious?" Grimmjow said, staring at Gin like he had just grown another head, "You're kidding, right?"

Gin's grin just got wider, "I wouldn' joke abou' this. Besides, if I leave 'ya fer a while, you'll have an opportunity to miss me."

Grimmjow was still staring at the piles of college-related materials stacked haphazardly on the coffee table in Gin's apartment, his eyes raking over the different colleges. Several of them were public universities in the immediate area while the majority were universities in Tokyo and other major hubs of Japan. He picked one envelope up that looked especially fancy, his eyebrows raising, "Dartmouth?"

"Tha's one of my safeties," Gin said with a shrug, "I'm not sure where I'm goin' yet, but I know I'm goin' abroad."

Grimmjow picked up another one, noticing the seal was in a funky-looking language, "Don't tell me this is Russia."

"Always wanted 'ta visit St. Petersburg," Gin said, snatching the packet out of Grimmjow's hand, "It'll only be 'fer a year or two, Grimm. No need 'ta break out the waterworks."

"Fuck you. Why abroad? There're a lot of good colleges around here."

Gin unwrapped a lollipop and stuck it in his mouth, his newest habit. He'd been smoke-free for nearly two months now. It'd been almost four months since they had been released from the hospital, and Matsumoto had made him so irritated during their physical therapy sessions that Gin had been smoking nearly a pack a day.

Until Shuhei had gotten fed up with him and told him that he needed to quit.

Gin had gone cold turkey the following day and hadn't touched one since.

Which reminded Grimmjow, "You talked to Shuhei about this?"

Gin looked quite stoic while licking his lollipop, "He's attending an art college in Tokyo. He has his mind set on it: I couldn't possibly ask him 'ta stay if that's the school of his dreams. I need 'ta give him his space and let 'im make decisions for himself. I haven't told him my decision yet."

Grimmjow offered Gin a giant grin, "Ah, now I get it."

"Hm?"

"You're a sneaky bastard, Ichimaru Gin," Grimmjow laughed, lying back on the couch with his arms behind his head, "That's pretty naughty, even for you."

"I don't know what you could possibly mean," Gin said petulantly.

"You're head-over-heels in love with him, but you're too damn stubborn to do anything about it. So you're going away to test him, yeah? Drive him crazy?"

"Not exactly," Gin said, opening his icy eyes, his face actually looking vulnerable, "As soon as he told me about the university in Tokyo…he thinks it would be a bad idea for us ta'…continue."

Grimmjow didn't have a chance to interrogate his friend about the newest and shocking development that he would have never seen occurring between the budding relationship between Gin and Shuhei because the front door slammed open, followed by the sound of a shrieking Shirosaki and a complaining Ichigo.

"Holy hell, berry!" Shirosaki whooped, giving Ichigo the world's most unholy noogie, "I knew ya'd go somewhere fruity like that! A fuckin' art college, huh?"

"Leave me alone!" Ichigo growled, drop-kicking Shirosaki. Shirosaki didn't even complain, just busted into new peals of laughter as Ichigo stepped over his fallen comrade.

"Congratulations," Gin said from his hollow globe chair, his vulnerable expression having been completely erased in a split second and replaced with his slit grin, "I knew ya'd get in."

Ichigo plopped down on the couch next to Grimmjow, his face flushing, "Shirosaki saw the paper…I was going to tell you first…"

Grimmjow wrapped an arm around the side of his head and planted a kiss on his temple, "I'm so proud of you, Ichi."

"Aw gross," Shirosaki complained, covering his face dramatically with an arm.

"You're lucky that's all you've witnessed," Grimmjow growled, throwing one of Gin's college packets at Shirosaki and knocking him in the groin area.

Shirosaki cussed and complained for a good ten minutes after that, Ichigo transfixed on all of the different options Gin was considering about university.

"What do you want to study?" Ichigo asked, noticing that one packet was an internship opportunity at an American university in linguistics.

Gin tilted his head to the side, "I was thinkin' maybe engineering, but now I'm leaning towards psychology or philosophy."

"I can't even spell those words," Shirosaki grumbled, turning on the TV and flicking through the channels with lightning speed.

"You just got moved up in the auto shop, didn't you?" Ichigo said, looking at his albino friend with a tilt of his head, "Seriously, Shiro, if you take remedial classes to meet your graduation requirements, you could study auto engineering or something."

"School ain't fer me," Shirosaki said with a sharp-toothed grin, "Besides, the old man ain't gonna live forever. Zangetsu's gonna leave the place 'ta me when he retires. It's a fuckin' sweet lil' shop and I don't ever wanna leave."

Ichigo left it at that, happy that Shirosaki was doing something he was so passionate about. Ichigo had had no idea that Shirosaki was so good with cars (he had been hot-wiring them since he was about seven years old) but he'd gone clean once the Hollows had released them without any repercussions. They'd been dismissed as if they'd been suspended from school, not even a slap on the wrist. Of course Grimmjow and Gin had had to suffer through it, but that was before Ichigo learned the entire story. Grimmjow had been just as upset about the whole thing as Ichigo had been, learning that he and Gin had been a part of Aizen's assassination.

Although no one was regretting the fact that Aizen was now dead and out of their lives forever. Barragan had stepped in almost immediately with his son and heir, a tall, stoic man with morals and ethics despite their shady dealings. Shawlong would be a far better leader than his psychotic predecessor.

Barragan had explained everything to Nnoitra and Shirosaki at a special meeting in a well-known Yakuza bar downtown, how they were free to go and safe from any further gang affiliations. No one could touch them ever again according to Baraggan. Shirosaki and Nnoitra had told Gin and Grimmjow afterward, right after they had been discharged from the hospital. It had also explained who their 'mysterious benefactor' had been during their hospital stay. Everything had begun to smooth out and put itself into place.

Life had gone on. Schoolwork had been turned in and papers had been worked on. Grades had been given and the graduation ceremony was only a few short weeks away. Grimmjow had worked hard to keep up with his absence, and Ichigo was so happy to know that they would be graduating together along with Gin. Shirosaki and Nnoitra would be attending the graduation ceremony, but they wouldn't be receiving diplomas. Both had withdrawn before the school could issue the final failing grades.

Nnoitra showed up at the apartment about an hour later, complaining about his empty stomach. Ichigo immediately set to work fixing a simple meal for them all while Gin made his famous tea, Nnoitra and Shirosaki bickering over what to watch on television while Grimmjow played referee while sipping on a beer.

After everyone had full stomachs and had drank their fill of soda and beer, Nnoitra cocked his head to the side and stared right into Ichigo's eyes, "Ya know what? Ya need 'ta come down ta' the shop one'a these days. First one's on me."

"Seriously?" Ichigo said, his face lighting up. Nnoitra had been dabbling in tattoo work for years, one of his good gang buddies training him in his uncle's tattoo shop. He'd been a novice for a while but since quitting the Hollows, his friend's uncle had taken him in as an apprentice and he was doing quite well. Grimmjow had taken him to the shop once or twice to meet up with Nnoitra after work and he'd seen the work he was capable of. Besides, the seven-foot-something beast was covered in enough ink to last him several lifetimes.

But the fact that Nnoitra was offering him a tattoo? Ichigo didn't even know how to react. Nnoitra had never said anything even half-decent to Ichigo ever, even after the whole near-death experience with the alley way and the garbage bags and the hospital visits. He had gotten a few grunts and nods of the head, which Ichigo had assumed meant some form of gratitude, but maybe this meant he finally accepted Ichigo as one of them?

"It's really not tha' big of a deal," Gin said, unwrapping another lollipop from his glass candy bowl he kept on deck in case of his nicotine craving, "Apprentices have 'ta practice a lot 'fer their first year and can't charge much 'fer their tat work anyways."

"Shut up," Nnoitra said, focusing on Ichigo again, "Ya want one or not?"

"Actually, I've wanted one for a long time," Ichigo said, biting his bottom lip, "I just can't ever decide what to get. It has to have meaning."

"Consider it 'yer graduation gift," Nnoitra grunted, popping the top to another beer, "Tha' goes fer you guys too, but not you, Shiro. You've already gotten three 'fer practically nothin'."

They all laughed as Shirosaki whined about the unfairness of life.

**XXX**

Graduation came and went, the ceremony one that Ichigo supposed he would remember for years to come. Ishida had delivered the class speech with his usual stoic brilliance, but that wasn't the reason Ichigo would remember that day for the rest of his life.

Seated in alphabetical order, Grimmjow sat next to him in their formal wear, his fingers warm in Ichigo's. It was the first display of affection they had ever shown at school where anyone (and everyone) could see for themselves. Of course they had stolen kisses on the rooftop, but no one had ever been witness. Throughout the ceremony, Ichigo could hear some girls whispering behind them, even a boy or two sounding disgruntled.

Grimmjow cocked his head back, staring one of them dead in the eye and they instantly shut up.

Ichigo couldn't keep the smile off of his face as he squeezed Grimmjow's hand harder.

**XXX**

"My darling son! A high school graduate! Masaki, they grow up so fast!" Isshin cried joyfully as he hugged the massive portrait of his darling departed wife that had hung in the Kurosaki dining room for as long as Ichigo had been alive. Unohana smiled at her fiancé, rubbing her pregnant stomach affectionately as Karin sighed and Yuzu clapped happily.

"What a freak," Kenpachi breathed loud enough for Ichigo to hear.

Grimmjow elbowed him in the ribs and Kenpachi grunted, but otherwise fell silent.

"It's okay. He really is," Ichigo said from Grimmjow's other side before winking at Unohana across the table.

She laughed, the sound comforting. It'd been so long since any of the Kurosaki kids had heard a mother laugh like that.

"Isshin, honey, why don't you go get some tissues?" Unohana said soothingly as Isshin wiped at his tears and the snot began to drip from his nose.

"I-i-its just that – that he's all grown up now," Isshin sobbed as he took his seat back at the dinner table. Yuzu, Karin, Nel, and Yachiru were all staring at him with wide eyes and childlike curiosity while Kenpachi looked pretty uncomfortable at the unmanly display, "My-my beloved son doesn't need his papa anymore! My beautiful and only son has himself a handsome boyfriend and is off to fulfill a dream and-and…"

Isshin started sobbing harder, hitting his head down on the table in front of him once or twice before Unohana went to his side and began rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"Dad," Ichigo said, his face flushed at his father's comments about Grimmjow, "You really are an idiot if you think I'm not going to need you anymore, old man."

Isshin lifted his head off of his half-eaten plate, a few grains of rice sticking and sliding off of his forehead as he sniffled, "Y-you'll still need your papa? You won't forget about me?"

"I'll only be a few hours away. I'll come home on weekends and visit," Ichigo said with a smile on his face before it became deadly serious, "But you're not allowed to come visit me. I don't need my dorm mates finding out how crazy my old man is."

You would think Ichigo had just given Isshin permission to keep breathing. He threw his arms up in the air and started fist-pumping, making weird noises like he was at a football game, "Ichigo, my son, you have made your wonderful daddy very proud today!"

"I don't think I can take much more of this," Kenpachi said, rubbing at his stomach, "I think I'm gonna throw up."

"Ah, how emotional the fathers have become," Unohana smirked, her doe eyes focused on the intimidating muscle man, "Don't worry, Kenpachi, Grimmjow won't forget you."

"Of course he won't. He's gonna keep stayin' with us if he's goin' to the local university," Kenpachi said with his arms crossed over his chest, his chin held high.

Ichigo wanted to laugh, but he couldn't help but think how cute it was that Kenpachi hadn't corrected Unohana about Grimmjow being his son. Grimmjow must have caught it too, because his face looked thoughtful.

"And what will you be pursuing, Grimmjow-kun?" Unohana asked, picking up her chopsticks to finish their interrupted meal due to Isshin's antics.

"I'd…like to become a doctor," Grimmjow answered, his voice uncertain, "I'm taking out a few loans, so…I mean, once I have my basic degree, I can apply to a real medical school and…"

"Excellent!" Isshin beamed, pointing his chopsticks at Grimmjow, "You, my handsome son-in-law, have made your papa very proud!"

"Cut it out!" Karin demanded, punching her father in the shoulder. She tended to sit next to him to control him sometimes, and Ichigo was thankful for it. His entire face and neck was the bright red of a tomato.

Grimmjow laughed.

Unohana couldn't help but giggle, which was followed up by Yachiru, Nel, and Yuzu letting loose some peals of laughter while Karin fought a shit-eating grin. Even Kenpachi had his predatory grin in place as Ichigo finally gave in and laughed too.

**XXX**

It was a few days later, after the graduation celebration, that Ichigo found himself sorting through things in his room. Clothes had begun to be moved into boxes, all of them labeled, some for his move and others to be given to a shelter. Another box was of some things he'd be leaving for Karin, another box of stuffed animals Ichigo had always hoarded in secret for Yuzu. He didn't need his little friends anymore. At least, he kept telling himself that a big-bad college student didn't need toys.

He was still weeks away from moving into the dorms, but he had thought it would be a good idea to at least go through his things and organize what was staying and what was going.

He was flipping through a stack of cds when he heard the front door bell ring. Home alone, he knew the task fell to him to answer it.

He went down the stairs two at a time, tugging up the waistband of his mesh sports shorts as he opened the door.

Ichigo found himself smiling as soon as he registered Grimmjow, his blue hair slick with rain, his shirt and pants dark from being wet.

Ichigo snorted, "You look like a drowned cat."

Grimmjow's grin was insatiable as he took a step inside, shaking his head and sending water flying into Ichigo's face, "The rain started as soon as I left the house."

Ichigo hadn't even noticed it had been raining, but he saw it was coming down a little harder now as he closed the front door and dragged Grimmjow to the laundry room, "You're going to catch a cold. There should be a shirt and pants down here, I just finished a load earlier…"

"Where's your family?" Grimmjow asked curiously, scanning the quiet empty house as Ichigo opened the sliding door to the tiny space they used as a laundry room.

Ichigo opened the dryer door and began to rummage through the contents as he answered, "Isshin took the kids with him to meet Unohana's family. Apparently her mom and dad own a farm a few hours from town."

"How long will they be gone?"

"A few days. They left yesterday," Ichigo said, pulling out a white tank and inspecting it, stretching it with his fingers, "This might fit…"

He turned around, holding the tank out in front of him, his eyes glued to a half-naked Grimmjow. Grimmjow had removed his soaking dark blue shirt, his fingers already beginning to work on the drenched jeans. His impossible blue eyes locked with Ichigo's and Ichigo swallowed the lump in his throat, his lower regions starting to feel hot.

"How come you didn't go?" Grimmjow said conversationally, undoing his belt and slipping his jeans down his legs without breaking eye contact. He kicked them away from himself, now wearing nothing but royal blue boxers, his wet hair fanned out around his face.

"Because…" Ichigo started, willing his brain to work as Grimmjow stared at him before taking a step forward, "because I thought…it would be nice to have the house…to…myself. For once."

"Mhm," Grimmjow murmured, so close now that his hands were planted on either side of the dryer, pinning Ichigo in.

"I've never…had the house to myself before," Ichigo whispered, dropping the shirt he had been holding and running his hands through Grimmjow's wet hair, his breath quickening.

"A few days," Grimmjow said, leaning into Ichigo and nipping him on the chin, "We could do a lot with a few days."

"Yeah," Ichigo replied, trying to remember how to breathe as he allowed his fingers to travel lower over Grimmjow's neck, collarbone, and pecs. His thumbs traced the healed scars on Grimmjow's abdomen, his eyes focused there so that he didn't have to see the heat reflected in Grimmjow's eyes, "You can, you know. If, if you…want to."

Grimmjow lifted his chin then, kissing him on the mouth and making him groan.

They continued to kiss, Ichigo's fingers imprisoned in the wet blue locks while Grimmjow's had traveled to Ichigo's hips, rubbing small circles and making Ichigo whine.

Grimmjow stopped kissing him, but he didn't pull completely away, his lips still against Ichigo's as he said, "I…talked to Gin. About…stuff."

Ichigo was completely hard now and could feel himself stiffen as Grimmjow's thigh brushed against the sensitive area. Ichigo clamped his jaws shut, hoping he had stopped making such pathetic-sounding sounds.

"I want you," Grimmjow whispered against Ichigo's lips, making his entire body tremble, "Do you want me?"

Ichigo gripped Grimmjow's face firmly before attacking his mouth again, his tongue mapping the hot cavity of Grimmjow's mouth before pulling away slightly, "Of course I do, you stupid bastard."

Grimmjow snorted as Ichigo took his hand and tugged him around towards the door, pulling him up the stairs. Ichigo kicked his door in, feeling Grimmjow press against his back, his hard on evident through the thin boxer material. Ichigo kicked some boxes out of the way, turning in Grimmjow's arms so that he was facing him again, hands exploring every inch of flesh available to him before he felt the backs of his knees hit the bed. He plopped down, his hands sliding down Grimmjow's chest as he breathed heavily, his stomach muscles clenching as Ichigo's fingers suddenly gripped the edge of his boxers.

They locked eyes, but Ichigo was feeling anything but timid right now. He continued to lower the boxers, his eyes falling away from Grimmjow's when Grimmjow's dripping cock was finally revealed to him. Ichigo went to grab it with one of his hands, but Grimmjow pushed him back onto the bed, kicking out of his boxers before sliding over the top of Ichigo and effectively pinning him to the mattress.

Ichigo whined, upset that he hadn't been given much time to appreciate Grimmjow's naked beauty, but Grimmjow's tongue was currently working on the juncture between his neck and chest and Ichigo began clawing at his own shirt. Grimmjow sat up enough off of Ichigo to allow him to remove his own shirt while Grimmjow pulled on his gym shorts.

Ichigo was so thankful he hadn't been wearing jeans or it would have taken longer than he would have liked. He had waited long enough for this moment, thank you very much.

Rain pelted on the bedroom window as Grimmjow leaned back on his heels, still straddling Ichigo's legs as he pulled at the thin boxer material, the only barrier now separating them. Ichigo could feel himself trembling, his heart racing in his throat as Grimmjow peeled them down slowly, his blue eyes heated and focused on what would be revealed.

Ichigo squirmed slightly underneath Grimmjow as he took in all of Ichigo's naked form. In all their time together, they had never been completely naked, and in all that time, Grimmjow had never given Ichigo oral.

Today was about to change all of that, because before Ichigo could ask why Grimmjow was still staring at him, he shifted his weight and moved Ichigo's legs to a more comfortable position, his tongue flicking out to taste Ichigo's dripping head.

Ichigo couldn't help the small yelp that escaped, his back bowing as Grimmjow continued to tentatively lick the head before teasing the slit and tracing the prominent veins. Ichigo threw his head back against the pillows, his hands covering his mouth as he felt Grimmjow's mouth cover him completely, taking him halfway in and fisting the rest. It took everything in Ichigo's power not to start thrusting his hips upward into the heat. Everything felt so instinctual, but he knew he had to be careful for Grimmjow's sake. It was his first blowjob, but it was Ichigo's first time receiving one.

"Grimm," Ichigo husked, his fingers threading into the blue locks and pulling rather tightly.

Grimmjow didn't answer, simply continued his ministrations, but now he was full on sucking, his head bobbing, and Ichigo screamed.

"Grimm, don't, I'm…!"

But it was too late. Ichigo's back arched as he opened his mouth in a silent scream, his orgasm sudden and sweet. His legs trembled as he focused his eyes enough to look down at Grimmjow, his blue eyes so dark they were almost black.

Ichigo thought he would cum again when he realized Grimmjow had swallowed nearly all of it, some of it trailing off the corner of his mouth. Grimmjow lifted one of his hands, wiping the back of it across his face before crawling like a predatory cat back up towards Ichigo.

"Grimmjow, you…" Ichigo's mind was still reeling, "you fucking swallowed."

Grimmjow shrugged, "You did for me."

"I fuckin' love you," Ichigo husked, his hands burying themselves back in Grimmjow's hair as they began to kiss again, their tongues battling for dominance. They both moaned when Grimmjow's ready cock began rubbing against Ichigo's sated one, although Ichigo could already feel himself beginning to get hard again.

Ichigo felt nothing but disappointment as Grimmjow tugged on his bottom lip a final time before descending once again, sitting back on his heels, his hands now on Ichigo's knees, prying them apart. He leaned forward, putting his pointer and middle finger on Ichigo's closed swollen lips.

"Suck," he husked, and Ichigo shivered at the tone. He opened his mouth, allowing Grimmjow's fingers in. He began to lick and suck them in earnest. He was pleased when he heard Grimmjow grunt, obviously aroused. Grimmjow finally pulled his fingers back and Ichigo covered his face with both of his arms as he waited for what he had read about.

He felt the wet fingers circle his virgin hole a few times, pushing slightly but not entering. Grimmjow positioned his legs farther apart again, lifting his pelvis.

Ichigo held his breath, waiting for the pain he knew would come.

But it didn't come. Not yet, because he hadn't expected a fucking _tongue _at his backside.

"Grimmjow!" Ichigo screamed as Grimmjow continued to thrust his tongue in and out of the clenched hole, the textured perineum uncharted territory for both of them. Ichigo had played with himself in the shower for the past few months, but he had only ever gotten one finger in and had never imagined a tongue would feel so good.

He continued to whine, practically swallowing one of his fists as Grimmjow's tongue was replaced by a slippery finger and Ichigo bucked.

"Oh_ GOD_," Ichigo breathed barely above a whisper, his chest heaving as Grimmjow's finger went in past the second knuckle and curled inside of him before pistoning out again. Grimmjow decided to add the second finger at the same time he licked Ichigo's cock, bringing it back to full attention and distracting Ichigo from the uncomfortable pressure building inside of him.

Grimmjow had been embarrassed to ask Gin such intimate questions, but he couldn't trust anyone else with something so personal. Besides, he hadn't known anyone else that would be as masterful in the department. His heart was nearly beating out of his ribcage, his cock pounding more fiercely than he had ever felt.

He had been so afraid to prepare Ichigo, but now he feared that he would cum before he even got inside of Ichigo. The pride he had for his manhood would not allow such a devastating occurrence, but if Ichigo didn't stop writhing and panting and making all those other delicious noises, Grimmjow knew he wouldn't last much longer.

He had to hurry this shit the fuck up.

At the third finger, Ichigo's entire body was trembling, but it wasn't long before Grimmjow felt the muscles flexing around his fingers and he let out a shuddered breath as he watched Ichigo's hips begin to move against him, effectively fucking himself on Grimmjow's fingers.

"Oh FUCK ME," Grimmjow groaned, precum dripping down his shaft as both heads pounded with need.

"No, fuck ME," Ichigo replied, his hands pulling at Grimmjow's shoulders and leaving marks with his nails, "I'm ready, Grimm. Please, please I need this...please…"

Grimmjow removed his fingers with a hiss, completely undone with Ichigo's words. He didn't know why he hadn't come prepared with a bottle of lube and he'd been too embarrassed to ask Ichigo if he might have some, so he'd been very careful in prepping Ichigo with his own cum and combined spit.

Grimmjow decided that sex was extremely unhygienic.

He spit into his own hand quietly before rubbing it over his own length, almost whining as he realized how hard he was. He leaned back over Ichigo, holding his cock at Ichigo's entrance with one hand and pushing on the back of one of Ichigo's knees with the other, offering him a better angle.

"This…this might hurt," Grimmjow managed to get out, both of them breathing heavily.

"Just do it!" Ichigo demanded, flexing his hips and raking his nails down Grimmjow's spine.

Grimmjow grit his teeth. He couldn't wait any longer. He guided himself in, closing his eyes as he felt the tight, TIGHT heat welcome him. Ichigo gasped beneath him and he hadn't even gotten the head in all the way yet.

"Fuck," Grimmjow growled, his hands anchored on the backs of Ichigo's knees and lifting him before pushing himself all the way in.

"Shit!" Ichigo screamed, his muscles contracting so harshly Grimmjow felt the breath leave him. Was Ichigo trying to tear off his dick?

"Relax. Relax relax," Grimmjow chanted, forcing his body not to move. Chills ran up and down his spine as he waited for them both to adjust. Ichigo squirmed beneath him, his ass shifting and making Grimmjow moan. Grimmjow was sure Ichigo's nails were going to have him bleeding before this certain activity was over.

"Kiss me," Ichigo pleaded, his breathing returning to somewhat normal although his voice sounded strained, "Grimmjow, please…then I can…"

Grimmjow pushed forward instinctually with his hips as he leaned his long frame over Ichigo to meet his lips. Both of them moaned in each other's mouth as the movement had caused Grimmjow to move all the way in, Grimmjow's balls slapping against Ichigo's wet ass.

Ichigo kissed him with an almost desperate passion and Grimmjow understood that it was an attempt to take his mind off of the sudden pain in his backside. There was no way to erase the discomfort except to continue and lighten the pain.

"Ichigo," Grimmjow breathed against his lips as he instinctually moved his hips, grinding in slow, small circles in an attempt to stretch that tight heat.

Ichigo's fingers were now raking down Grimmjow's arms, gripping his biceps with an iron strength that nearly stunned Grimmjow. How could this be so incredible yet so uncomfortable at the same time? Grimmjow couldn't possibly continue this with Ichigo struggling as he was.

This was his virginity, after all. His first time with anyone, male or female. Grimmjow couldn't believe that he was the first to touch this perfect male body beneath him, the first to kiss and touch and tease and fuck. Grimmjow feathered kisses down the side of Ichigo's face, tugging on his earlobe as he felt himself dislodge all but for the head.

"Love you," Grimmjow rasped before thrusting his hips forward.

Ichigo shuddered, his breathing still irregular as Grimmjow thrust again, more shallow this time. He had to hunt for the special spot Gin had told him about, the gland that would make Ichigo's pain an unbearable pleasure.

"Shit," Ichigo rasped, his voice sounding on the verge of tears, "Godfuckingdammit."

"Love you," Grimmjow replied, his thrusts beginning to pick up speed. He lifted Ichigo's knees higher and farther out, trying to find a better rhythm, "Ichi."

**XXX**

Ichigo fought to control his breathing. He had to relax, but his mind and his body were at war. He wanted this more than anything, yet his body was struggling to cooperate. He had known the first time would be uncomfortable, painful even, but this, he had never expected it to hurt so good.

In the beginning the pain in his lower back and ass had been unbearable, but now it was beginning to turn into a fanning heat, spreading to his stomach as Grimmjow began to thrust in and out at an even pace, every thrust seeming to have a sense of control.

And Grimmjow had said it. He'd finally said the words Ichigo had been hoping for, and everything was supposed to be perfect and beautiful and romantic.

And he was ruining it, because all he could think about was how much he hurt and throbbed. In the beginning his dick had been half-hard again even after Grimmjow had let him cum, but as soon as Grimmjow had began pushing in and for the first few thrusts, his cock had suddenly been drained of all life.

Wasn't sex supposed to be beautiful? Special? Passionate? His skin was burning and he could feel the sweat from both of their bodies, but when did it start to feel good.

Grimmjow was breathing hard, and then…

Oh. _Oh. My. God._

"H-holy _shit_!" Ichigo screeched, his entire body trembling. He could feel his toes curl as Grimmjow struck that gland Ichigo had read about, the one he had never managed to find with his fingers in all of his private sessions.

"_Fuck fuck fuck_, do it again!" Ichigo commanded, his hands running along Grimmjow's sweaty abs before wrapping them around his neck and lifting his hips.

"Ichi," Grimmjow grunted, pulling back nearly all the way before thrusting deep inside of him again.

_Pow. Fireworks._

Ichigo knew he was making incredibly unmanly sounds, but now Grimmjow was beginning to find that perfect rhythm and seemed to position himself in a way that would guarantee him striking his prostate.

Ichigo couldn't believe what left his lips next, "Faster, Grimm."

**XXX**

Grimmjow saw white lights dancing in his vision as he listened to his berry beg. It was a lot harder to support his weight this way than he had originally thought, and they were both so desperate to get off at this point that he did the only thing he thought he could do.

He pulled completely out of Ichigo, flipping him over even as he cussed under his breath, obviously disappointed and maybe even a little bit angry that Grimmjow had pulled out of him.

"On your knees," Grimmjow instructed, even though Ichigo was already getting on them, even though his body was shaking like a jello mold. Grimmjow gripped his lower back and thrust in again immediately, groaning as Ichigo let out another loud yell.

Grimmjow began to thrust faster, harder, the bed springs protesting as they both breathed heavily and raced towards their release. Ichigo's elbows wobbled, his arms barely supporting him as his body experienced pleasure for the first time.

Grimmjow reached his hand around, grasping Ichigo's now-dripping cock, stroking it as Ichigo whined.

"Come on, Ichi," Grimmjow demanded, knowing he wouldn't last much longer, his thrusts slowing.

Ichigo screamed as his orgasm racked his body, cum coating Grimmjow's hand as Ichigo's muscles flexed around him, milking his cock to the point of completion. Grimmjow felt himself release deep inside Ichigo, groaning as he continued to piston his hips a few more times before releasing himself from Ichigo with a sticky, wet popping sound.

He rolled over, Ichigo's face buried in the sheets as they both tried to come back down to earth.

A few minutes passed before Ichigo finally lifted his head slightly, looking at Grimmjow with glazed hazel eyes, "Grimmjow."

"Yeah?"

Grimmjow didn't understand the slow smile creeping over Ichigo's face, his cheeks flushed, his cinnamon freckles accentuating his skin and making Grimmjow's heart clench. Fuck, he really did love this vizard.

"I love you."

Grimmjow ran a hand through his hair lazily, "I know."

"Bastard."

"Always."

He rolled onto his side and kissed Ichigo on the mouth, "Love you."

"Eventually you're going to add the 'I'," Ichigo said before shifting onto his side and making a face.

"Yah, eventually," Grimmjow agreed, noticing the weird expression on Ichigo's face, "What's wrong?"

"I feel fucking disgusting," Ichigo said, squirming, "You didn't use a condom, jack ass."

"Didn't think that far," Grimmjow mumbled, surprised himself. He'd only rarely had intercourse without one, "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Ichigo said, pecking him on the lips before sitting up, "but it does feel gross."

Grimmjow crawled out of the bed, offering Ichigo the view he'd wanted to appreciate a while ago. He was gorgeous all over, especially his backside. Ichigo's eyes traveled the tanned, scarred, tattooed skin and realized that he'd become completely dependent on a gangbanging delinquent.

An ex-gangbanging delinquent who would never beat up another person ever again (unless it was for self defense, of course).

Grimmjow stopped at the doorway to the bedroom, turning back towards the bed and lifting a brow, "Are ya gonna keep staring or are ya gonna come shower with me?"

"Can't I do both?"

"Smart ass," Grimmjow grinned, folding his arms over his chest as he waited for his boyfriend to get up from the bed and follow him. Maybe Grimmjow could walk around in all his godgiven perfection stark naked, but Ichigo couldn't help but feel a tug of modesty and had the white bed sheet around his hips as he walked a bit stiffly to Grimmjow's side.

**XXX**

Grimmjow had called Kenpachi later that night, letting him know that he would be spending the night at Gin's and that he had work late at the convenience store the next day.

Kenpachi didn't buy it for a minute.

Grimmjow called into the convenience store, explaining that his baby sister was extremely sick and extremely contagious. He'd gotten off the morning shift he'd had, and Kenpachi hadn't allowed him to work at the steal factory since his accident, unconvinced that his body was physically ready for the hard labor so quickly, even though in Grimmjow's opinion he'd been away quite long enough.

Oh well. Right now, it didn't matter, because the next two days and nights were filled with nothing but Ichigo.

They'd taken a shower and passed out on Isshin's bed, Ichigo claiming he'd change his bed sheets in the morning.

It hadn't exactly gone according to plan. They ended up having morning sex, the first in Grimmjow's entire life, and afterward had realized that they had done it in Isshin's bed.

They'd both laughed their heads off before heading downstairs for breakfast. Grimmjow had never realized how good toast and jam was.

Grimmjow had helped Ichigo change both sets of sheets before molesting him in the laundry room, which had led to another round of invigorating sex in the living room.

Three days of nothing but sleeping, eating, and fucking. Grimmjow now knew what heaven was like.

And he had adapted so easily. He had thought it would be difficult to have intercourse with Ichigo, to do something he had never ever seen himself ever doing, but it was as natural as anything Grimmjow could imagine.

It had also woken up a new hunger inside of himself that he had never known was so prominent. He had always indulged when the feeling struck, but it had never had MEANING before his time with Ichigo.

Now here they sat, clad only in boxers, chomping on cereal in the living room while they waited for the last load of sheets to finish.

"Are you afraid?" Ichigo suddenly asked, his spoon stirring at the bit of milk at the bottom of his cereal bowl.

Grimmjow chewed on the crunchy almond clusters, swallowing before speaking, "Ichi, we'll be fine. You're only a few hours away. Train tickets are cheap: we'll see each other every weekend. Shirosaki even said he can get me a sweet deal on a motorcycle."

Ichigo blinked several times, "You're not getting a motorcycle. They're dangerous."

"Yes MOMMY," Grimmjow teased, realizing his chest didn't hurt at the word. His mother's locket was still in his sock drawer back at Kenpachi's. He hadn't touched it since that night.

There were still plenty of issues to be dealt with, worked out, but Grimmjow would figure them out when he needed to.

With Ichigo by his side.

The thought made him feel incredibly stupid and happy at the same time.

Ichigo's pouting face was one of his favorites. Grimmjow leaned towards him, kissing him on those perfect pouty lips, "I might not get a motorcycle, but eventually I'm gonna do something stupid to piss you off. And we'll fight, and we'll make up, and then we'll fight some more."

Ichigo pushed his bowl and spoon out of the way, scooting closer on the wood floor until they were bumping knees as they sat Indian style, "I'm serious, Grimmjow. Do you know how many motorcycle-related deaths there are per year? How many treated emergency injuries in…?"

Grimmjow pecked him on the lips again, shutting him up, "No, but I'll be treating those same idiots in a couple years, yeah?"

"Grimmjow…"

"Now that would make for a sexy manga," Grimmjow continued to tease, enjoying the annoyance building on Ichigo's face, "One of your characters should ride a motorcycle, Ichi."

"Baka."

"Brat," Grimmjow replied, knocking his boyfriend back against the wood floor, holding himself above him with the strength of his arms, "but I love you anyway."

Ichigo decided not to comment that Grimmjow had finally added the 'I' because the kiss was too distracting. Right when Ichigo was beginning to grind his hips against Grimmjow's, he heard the front door open and a chortling Isshin.

Ichigo and Grimmjow both stared, neither having moved as Karin and Isshin had moved in, their gazes locking on the display of affection on the floor. No one spoke as Yuzu came into view, her automatic wheelchair the only noise.

"Grimmy-jow!" Yuzu said happily, "I didn't, I didn't know you liked wrestling!"

Grimmjow rolled off of Ichigo as he pushed on his chest, Karin's face as red as a tomato even as she snickered behind her hands, Yuzu continuing to prattle on and on about how Nel and Yachiru liked to watch wrestling with Kenny while Isshin disappeared, a sob ripping from his throat as Ichigo assumed he had thrown himself at his mother's portrait again.

Ichigo craned his head to stare at Grimmjow and his classic grin, even though he was clearly embarassed.

They both laughed.

Ichigo had to admit that his life was pretty much perfect.

**Review? A teeny-tiny epilogue on the way. I couldn't resist.**


	14. Epilogue

**-Tell Me Tomorrow-**

**-Epilogue-**

**12 years later.**

Neliel brushed through her long sea green hair carefully, her eyes showing a maturing female body in the vanity mirror. She set the brush down, her pale pink colored nails brushing against the battered silver locket. One of her dads, Grimmjow, had given it to her years ago, explaining its meaning and importance. She had never taken it off since.

"Nel, if you spend any more time on your hair and make up we're going to be late," Yachiru said from the bed behind Neliel, looking in the mirror to meet her best friend's eyes.

Nel turned away from the mirror, her best friend of nearly twelve years sprawled out on the aqua-colored comforter of the futon, her bubblegum pink hair cut into a jagged punk style, the tips dyed black. Her school-issued pleated skirt was covered in chains, her black long-sleeved shirt torn on the arms (since she wore her uniform shirt over the top of it, the teachers couldn't do much more than stare her down). Platform black leather boots with radical zippers finished the look. She blew a bubble with her gum, the gum managing not to stick to her silver lip piercing.

Nel smiled at her as she stood up from her vanity table, the school uniform hugging every curve. She knew what the boys at school whispered about her, but she knew they meant no harm. Half of them thought she was an unattainable goddess while the other half were convinced they could get in her panties by the end of the year. She didn't understand this logic, as she was in the top percentile of her class and was vice president of the student council. Pretty much everything her Papa Ichigo had been.

Yachiru pouted at her, "Why are you so damn pretty? It drives me crazy."

Neliel laughed at her friend before grabbing her school bag, nodding towards her bedroom door that they were ready to take off. Yachiru could be so blunt. She had been raised by Kenpachi, after all.

Before they had made it downstairs, the pair heard something clatter in the kitchen followed by an infant's howl.

"Taisuke," a deep, guttural voice growled, "You're making daddy very, very angry."

Nel peaked her head into the kitchen to make sure her adoptive father (and older brother) wasn't torturing her baby brother.

"We're really going to be late," Yachiru pouted, although Nel knew perfectly well that the female delinquent didn't really care.

"It'll just take a second," Neliel said, entering the kitchen and approaching the messy high chair where the pale-skinned, black-haired baby boy fidgeted. He was covered in what looked like sweet potato baby food while an irritated Grimmjow cleaned a rather large orange-colored stain off of the floor at the base of the chair.

"You're a brat, ya know that, Tai?" he grumbled, rustling Taisuke's oil-black hair. He kicked his legs and grinned, a grin so big that Nel couldn't help but smile. Taisuke was still so young but was already beginning to resemble Grimmjow.

Or perhaps, somehow, the child had genetically inherited his real father, Shirosaki's, maniacal grin. When Taisuke had been barely two months old, Shirosaki had gotten into a car accident. He had died before he had made it to the hospital. The mother, a useless woman who Nel could vaguely familiarize with her own mother, had been ready to put the newborn up for adoption.

Grimmjow and Ichigo had made the decision within hours to take the child in.

Now nearly a year old, Taisuke grinned at his big sister, his thick, black lashes framing deep raven black eyes.

"Need help?" Nel asked, grabbing the little bowl of the sloppy mush her baby brother was usually so fond of. In no time at all, she had gotten Taisuke to eat all of it, him grinning ear to ear as he chomped with his sharp baby teeth.

"You're an angel," Grimmjow smirked, kissing her on the head as he stood to his full height. Sometimes Neliel forgot why people were so intimidated by her surrogate dad. Neliel was tall for a girl, had been told she was tall enough to be a super model, but Grimmjow still looked down on her with his wolfish smile.

Or maybe it was all the tattoo work from his 'glory days' as Grimmjow referred to them. Which was ridiculous, considering his 31st birthday was still months away and in Neliel's opinion, he hadn't changed much. The years had been good to him.

"If we don't leave now, we'll miss first period," Yachiru grunted, looking at her cell phone. Which was strange, because Nel usually couldn't pry Yachiru away from Taisuke.

"Need a ride?" Grimmjow asked, picking Taisuke up out of the high chair and pulling off his bib at the same time, tossing it behind him into the sink. Taisuke sat quietly on Grimmjow's hip, a sated beast for the time being.

"That's okay. You need to get ready, right?" Nel said, staring at Grimmjow's pajama-clad self. Flannel red pajama pants clashed ridiculously with the natural blue hair on his head. Nel realized that he needed a haircut. Badly.

"I can be late every now and then," he grumbled as Yachiru blew air out of her mouth.

"Sometime _today_, Nel," she said, looking at her phone again.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Nel finally snapped, throwing the empty baby dish in the sink.

Yachiru was just about to throw one of her classic tantrums but soft laughter interrupted her.

Ichigo swaggered into the kitchen in rumpled jeans and an ink-splattered white t-shirt, his hair mussed and dark circles under his eyes. Neliel crossed her arms over her chest, about to rip into her dad about him not staying up all night to meet a deadline for work.

But he spoke before she got a chance, his coffee taffy eyes playful as he grinned at Yachiru, "You got yourself somebody special, huh?"

"S-shut up," Yachiru instantly blushed and Nel giggled.

"Who's the unlucky guy?" Grimmjow said before getting smacked in the shoulder by Nel.

"_Nobody_," Yachiru said, her eyes focused on her best friend, girl code for _'keep your mouth shut and nobody gets hurt'_.

Ichigo made his way over to the coffee maker, pouring himself a giant mug and downing over half of it before reminding the girls that they were going to be late.

"Bye! I love you!" Nel called as she was pulled towards the front door by a softly cussing Yachiru.

"Oh Nel," Ichigo called off-handedly, "Don't forget you're watching Tai and Kinji tonight!"

Nel smiled to herself as she thought about the little crimson-haired tyrant that was only a month younger than Taisuke, Karin and Jinta's son. He had been born with hair as blasphemously red as his father's but had the unmistakable dark eyes of his mother Karin. He was a handful, crawling everywhere and full of energy but he was very quiet and barely ever screamed or cried. Having the two boys together was sure to be a bit of a nightmare, but it was nothing Nel couldn't handle. Jinta had surprised Karin with tickets to a major soccer game and her dads had been planning a night out for some time so Nel had suggested it be the same night. They all deserved a break from parenting. At least for one night.

"I won't!" Nel answered as she slammed the door behind her, Yachiru launching into a thousand and one different ways to exact revenge on Nel's fathers. Yachi would never really do anything, considering they were tighter than family from all the years growing up together. As soon as Grimmjow had saved up enough to get them their own place, Yachiru had cried like a baby and the only way Kenpachi could get any peace was if Yachiru had been able to visit them and spend the night once in a while.

The tradition had continued into their high school lives, even now that they were seniors.

They scurried into their homeroom, getting little more than a blink and a flick of a paper fan from Urahara-sensei. He was their favorite teacher considering how laid-back the professor could be.

Nel smiled into her book as she watched Yachiru send paper messages back and forth to a quiet boy who was said to be a genius, his thick black glasses hiding his intelligent brown eyes.

Neliel's fathers were living proof that opposites attract.

**XXX**

"Alright everyone, listen up," Yoruichi-sensei called the class to attention as she stood at her podium, "I'd like to conclude this unit in chemistry by doing a group project. Pairs only, and I'm not-so-sorry to say that I'll be picking the groups."

There was the usual grumbles and mumbles, but Yoruichi continued, "Alphabetical order, if you please."

The class was only fourteen people as it was advanced calculus so Neliel didn't have long to wait.

Tu Oderschvank, Neliel and…" Yoruichi-sensei read of flawlessly.

Nel stood up with her books and moved towards the empty lab table, taking a seat as Yoruichi announced her partner.

"Urahara, Arashi."

Neliel turned slightly to regard her quiet and mysterious partner, a boy who always sat in the back of the classroom and rarely ever spoke. He stepped forward, hands in his pockets, his tie loose around his neck as he took the empty stool next to Nel. He faced her slightly, his eyes as shiny and reflective as his mother's, his blonde hair as unruly as his father's. He offered Nel a small smirk, a smirk that made Neliel's heart squeeze. She quickly averted her eyes, looking ahead at the teacher.

"Don't think just because you're the star pupils in this class that I'm going to go easy on you," Yoruichi-sensei said, her face stern even though her mouth was set in a slight smile, "Who would have thought, the prodigy son of two renowned scientists and the daughter of a successful orthopedic surgeon and a blossoming mangaka? As I said, I expect great things."

Nel nodded eagerly, unaware of Yoruichi-sensei's playful tone.

Arashi chuckled next to Nel, the sound making shivers run down her spine in a pleasant way.

"Sure, mom. Sure."

**/End.**

**I picked the names randomly, although I found that Arashi means 'storm'. I've always though that if Urahara and Yoruichi had a son, he would be extremely hot (and you're assuming that they have been together since before Ichigo and Grimmjow's day, or else Arashi wouldn't be in the same class as Nel. You're assuming that they just-so-happened to have a genius six year old at home waiting for them at the end of the school day) As for Yachi's heart throb, I was messing with all of you, wondering if you might figure out that Aizen had a young son. He might have been a psycho, but he could have been a papa xD (You can interpret it however you want. I made him up, and I know you all hate Aizen in this fic, so you can either forgive the second generation who is all lovey-dovey or you can hate Aizen with a passion and pretend the kid is totally made up and some random guy, lol).**

**I was going to do this in a totally different way, but I just started writing and couldn't stop. A bit ridiculous, but I thought it would give you a glimpse into the future I saw for all of them. And sorry for all of you out there that are Shirosaki fans. I didn't mean to kill him off, but I wanted Grimm and Ichi to have a baby (kind of) and I know that's a terrible way to have it happen, but this story was based off of my own life and the life of my older brother and friends, and a similar situation happened so I thought it would work, and again, I thought about how adorable a Shirosaki baby would be (I almost made a Nnoitra baby, but I didn't want to kill him. I love them both and I figured Shirosaki would party harder in the after life, lol).**

**FINALLY, I would like to say thank you to ALL of my reviewers! I tried to reply to as many as possible and I can't say how much your reviews have meant to me. They really do push me to become a better writer and write more effectively. Thank you to everyone who took this journey with me. As cheesy as this sounds, I learned a lot about myself through this story and I am both happy and sad to see it come to an end. Thank you, everyone, and I hope you keep your eyes open for Gin/Shuhei's side of the story, Tie Me Down, which will be a companion piece to Tell Me Tomorrow. Believe it or not, it will read as almost a completely different story, as I realized their perspectives will be ridiculously different than Grimm and Ichi's, and Shuhei never comes into contact with the rest of the gang as often as Ichigo, so I hope you guys are excited about it because I am! ~TPP**


	15. Tie Me Down I

Warnings: _M for mentions of abuse, drug use, and graphic sexual situations. _

Pairing(s): _Gin/Shuhei/Gin, mentions of Grimmjow/Ichigo, possible side pairings._

Synopsis: _Ichimaru Gin has always floated through life like a cloud, his past be damned, but when a certain heavily tattooed chemistry partner becomes his silver lining, will he allow himself to finally be tied down? Some chains aren't meant to be broken. _

_Timeline: Set during and after the events of Tell Me Tomorrow. _

**-Tie Me Down-**

**-Chapter One: Fear Made Flesh-**

…..

_'You live your life in your head,_

_some call it imagination._

_I'd rather focus instead_

_on anything other than what I'm feeling.' _

_-Sick Puppies 'Odd One'_

…

Ichimaru Gin shifted in his king size bed, careful not to roll over. He felt the cold, smooth sensation of an elongated body slither across his bare torso slowly, making him chuckle. Apparently he had left the terrarium tank lid off the night before.

"Mornin' to 'ya too, Shinso," he snickered, sitting up slowly as his banana-yellow boa constrictor continued to slither over his chest to pool itself into a ball near his side. He had been fascinated with the cold-blooded creatures from an extremely early age and it had only made sense to own one once he had managed to get out on his own. Shinso was rather large, nearly seven feet in length with a slick sophisticated head and a color that belied most of his kind, which was one reason Gin had been attracted to it in the pet shop in the first place.

It had been different, set apart from the other snakes, a predator alone in a cage, biding its time until it would be free.

Gin smiled. _Just like me._

It had been love at first sight. The boa had always moved languidly and was usually free to roam about the apartment, but most of the time it was coiled up in its large glass terrarium in the corner of his room. Gin rustled out of his dark purple sheets to prepare for the school day ahead of him, going through his usual morning routine. It was a schedule that had been burned into his brain from an early age. His father had always said to start the day off right, make sure the body and brain were healthy before diving into school and work tasks.

Clad in a pair of white mesh sweatpants, he approached the arm bar, which he had attached to his bedroom doorframe, his arms pulling his body up until his chin passed the bar. He did five sets of twenty reps before dropping back to the tiled floor and rotating his arms, neck, and cracking his back. He went to his closet and pulled out his black yoga mat, hitting the power button to his sophisticated stereo system and rotating the cds to his usual morning yoga. Calming sounds soon filled the room as a young woman with a fluid voice instructed him in Japanese into each practiced position, his icy blue eyes closed for the duration of the thirty minute routine.

Feeling energized, he hopped to the bathroom for a well-deserved cold morning shower, his preferred temperature. He smiled to himself as he rinsed the jasmine-scented conditioner from his silver locks, wondering if he would ever bring a lover to his apartment; to his own bed and his own shower. None had ever graced his bedroom as of yet, considering Gin had a secret fascination for bedroom privacy, although that didn't stop him from invading his conquest's bedrooms, kitchens, or living rooms. In fact, half of his sexual experiences had taken place in closets, subway tunnels, schoolrooms, or old warehouses. Not exactly classy, but sex was sex. It was an itch, and Gin was a practical young man. When he had an itch, he scratched it.

He just happened to scratch it with the same sex.

Sometimes he found his mind wandering to a particularly nice pair of tits or a tight ass, but he found sex with women to somehow not be as satisfying. He hadn't fucked a girl since middle school, although he still loved to tease them. Some found him creepy, others mysterious, but it all came down to one word: irresistible. Gin knew people were intimidated but also intrigued by his smirks, smiles, and grins. He couldn't help that his eyes were angled so much differently from his friends, or that his face looked fox-like with his natural silver hair and pale complexion. Some past screws had declared him a snake after he had fucked them and told them to get lost. Gin liked to believe he wasn't a cruel person, just a practical one.

He never fucked somebody he really liked. Call it twisted logic, but Gin wasn't looking for complications in his life. He had learned enough about relationships in his eighteen years of life to know that there was no such thing as a good romantic one. He had gotten lucky with having an irreplaceable friendship with Grimmjow; to ask to have an irreplaceable romantic relationship would just be plain selfish.

After dressing in simple black jeans, a fitted red band tee and topping it off with his favorite soft white hoodie, he deemed himself ready for school. He didn't usually wear the extra layer, but it was beginning to get cool in Karakura as it approached winter. He threw on a pair of all black Converse, his favorite brand he had shipped in from the states through mail order. Gin was much more particular about his choice of clothing and shoes than his fellow gang members. He tended not to wear the baggy jeans and oversized t-shirt ensemble that seemed to be a favorite among most gang bangers in the city. He wore what he wanted, what he felt comfortable in, and it was usually ripped jeans and a form-fitting t-shirt. He grabbed his black backpack and headed out of the apartment, locking the door to his domain behind him.

**XXX**

Shuhei Hisagi wasn't surprised to see his best friend staring blankly at him when he opened his eyes. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure what had happened the night before, only that the weekend had been one long string of parties, booze, and blow. He blinked again and when he sat up, he sneezed, running one of his hands over his nose and wincing when he felt a small trail of blood. Not only did his head feel like it had been hit by a sledgehammer, his nose felt like it had been stuffed with packing peanuts soaked in hot sauce.

It didn't surprise him, only pissed him off. He'd done a lot of rails; it made sense for his nose to be feeling fucking raw.

"Are you going to school?" Ulquiorra intoned, making Shuhei shift in his futon and pull the sheets up closer to his naked body. Ulquiorra was sitting on the edge, clad in dark green boxers, his midnight black hair gelled from the night before but messy from apparently passing out in bed with him earlier that morning. They'd both been on a blow binge and hadn't slept for three days. The night before had been lots of beer and loud music, and obviously Shuhei and Ulquiorra had managed to survive it all and navigate back to Shuhei's swanky two-story house that was almost always deserted.

Shuhei groaned, turning away from Ulquiorra's green-eyed gaze, "What the fuck happened last night?"

"Ggio's birthday party," Ulquiorra said softly, running a hand through his black hair, "or rather, birthday weekend. We were still blitzed around four a.m. but Ggio's new fuck offered us a ride. Got back here and you decided to get naked as usual."

Shuhei snorted, rubbing his nose again as he looked at Ulquiorra with steady metallic gray eyes, "You love it when I get naked."

Ulquiorra didn't even blink, "Of course I do. You have an amazing body."

Shuhei wasn't about to correct him. He'd always taken mad care of his body, although he knew he was stupid to abuse it with hard drugs once in a while. He wouldn't consider himself an addict, but he liked to have himself some fun on boring weekends, and blow always took something boring and made it fantastic. His body was defined from years of karate and judo that his mother had enrolled him in to make sure her high society friends knew that she was spending ridiculous money on her only precious son's extracurricular activities. She was always doing shit like that: paying for shit that Shuhei didn't need or even want. But after a few weeks of the physical training, Shuhei had come to love it.

And as he got older, every time he had an argument with his mother over something ridiculous like his clothing choice, he started inking his skin. His first one had been at fifteen, just a black star on his right hip, but he started adding more, and more and more until the top of his chest, his arms, and hips were covered, along with the colorful crazy dream creations on the backs of his legs that reached down to his ankles. He'd been high or drunk for nearly half of them, but he didn't care. He had a story and reason for every single one of them, and he sure as hell wasn't going to allow his mother to tell him how to live his life or how to present his body to the public.

He was strong willed. He supposed that was the dad side of him; the one trait he had inherited from the cold motherfucker besides his DNA. He'd gotten the man's dark hair, his high cheekbones, and the silver cutting eyes that made you feel like shit on the bottom of his shoes if used correctly.

Not that he cared. His dad was constantly proving his love by sending him shitloads of money and presents every month while he screwed his secretary of two years every which way but wrong. She was pregnant now, that skinny bitch with the big tits and the fake surgery smile. What did his father see in that wench? Her pussy must be made out of gold for his dad to keep screwing with her when he usually fucked them good once and left them a handful of cash like they were a prostitute. His father had to be a lot of things to go against a marriage of nearly twenty years.

But that was Shuhei's life: he lived in a world dictated by democratic socialite bullshit. His parents didn't even have the decency to divorce: it was an agreement, a contract, of sorts. Both could screw who ever they wanted as long as it was discreet and didn't cause any trouble within their self-governed society. Shuhei's mother was a well-known defense attorney and his father owned a shipping company, both of them descended from old money.

And old money meant plastering on a smile and pretending your life was fucking perfect; to never have a hair out of place, to act as if your family is set high on a pedestal that no one and nothing can ever touch, even though the reality is that it's not a family at all, just a cold house full of pampered and pedigreed dogs.

Shuhei had hated it growing up. His mother had always been trying to brush his unruly spiky ink-black hair, telling him to wear the tailored outfits and uniforms when he went out in public with her. To smile and respect her and hug her when she needed it for a photo or she was at a prestigious promotional party.

As for Shuhei's father, he was the one that Shuhei had thought could be redeemed. He still had an air about him in public, many commenting on how he had an aura about him that was untouchable, but when you got to know him, his charm was so deceptive even the most god-fearing nun would spread their legs for him if he asked. He was a smooth operator, but he had paid attention to Shuhei, never telling him to go away when he had an important phone call or a client. Shuhei used to be able to sit on his lap and tell him about his day in primary school and how he had gotten the best grade in the class for grammar. His father had always liked that. Shuhei used to get the best grades in school not because he was smart or because he had a god complex to fulfill, but because a good grade or excelling in music or athletics meant a pat on the head and kind words, maybe even a kiss on the cheek from his old man.

Yes, pathetic. But so needed.

Shuhei was jolted back into reality by Ulquiorra's cold hand touching the side of his face, "You never answered me. Are you going to school?"

"No," Shuhei decided, huffing out a breath, "And I'm never doing that many rails again. Why didn't you stop me?"

Ulquiorra shrugged, "I'm not your caretaker. You're a grown man. You can do whatever you want."

Shuhei didn't know whether to be pleased or pissed with those statements. All he knew was that blow kept him from getting it up so he didn't understand why he always felt the need to get naked, "Did we do it?"

Ulquiorra looked at him like he was the dumbest little thing on the earth, a look that his mother gave him on occasions that she was home and saw the way he dressed. She was ashamed to even let him out in public, as she had said one day at the long dinner table, considering he had a flair for darkness that not many could pull off and look original. He wasn't one of those depressed emo faggot freaks, although he had had to beat up more than a few idiots who had called Ulquiorra that and worse. Just because Ulquiorra sported unnaturally pale skin and had dead facial expressions didn't mean that he constantly whined about his life and talked about suicide like it was the next biggest thing since sliced bread.

"No," Ulquiorra said, sighing as he ran a hand through his hair, "You just got naked, declared yourself king of banana pudding, and passed out face first into your futon."

Shuhei blinked several times, wondering if Ulquiorra was fucking with him. Another look at Ulquiorra's facial expression answered that for him: not likely, "Oh."

Ulquiorra moved to lay beside Shuhei, both of them with their hands on their stomachs as they stared up at Shuhei's colorful ceiling. There was everything from posters of heavy metal bands to Gothic Lolita girls, from horror movie advertisements to spray-painted words in kanji like 'Shoot 'Em Dead' and 'Fuck Your Mom Twice'. That one Shuhei had never quite figured out. It had been up there for years, but he couldn't remember being drunk and haphazardly spraying a can of black paint up on his roof. Ulquiorra, who was constantly with Shuhei, didn't even have an answer for him, and Ulquiorra usually had an answer for everything.

"Did you want to?" Shuhei said, sounding completely serious.

"Of course," Ulquiorra said blatantly, his tone uncaring. That's what Shuhei loved about Ulquiorra: he never held back anything, ever. He was to the point, sometimes so much so that people were utterly offended and sometimes cried. It was just the way he was. Both of his parents were scientists, so Shuhei wondered if that was the reason. The few times Shuhei had come across Ulquiorra's parents they had talked crisply and evenly, a lot like Ulquiorra, and said things in a way that was completely factual. They had never joked, but neither did Shuhei's parents. Shuhei's dad would sometimes embarrass Shuhei with sexual innuendos, but that was as close to joking as Shuhei and Ulquiorra were ever exposed to.

But that didn't mean they didn't know how to laugh.

Shuhei laughed, running a hand absently over his defined abs, over the black flame tattoos that seeped into the kanji for 'hope' on his right side. It was his newest one, and he'd kill somebody before he'd tell anyone the meaning of it.

Because even he didn't understand why he had done it. Not entirely. He hadn't even told Ulquiorra about it, and he wasn't sure he ever would.

Ulquiorra offered a chuckle, which Shuhei realized nobody ever got to hear except for him. Ulquiorra was almost a completely different person when he was with Shuhei. At school he never spoke, but when he was with Shuhei, sometimes he wished he could fuck Ulquiorra so hard he would stop talking permanently.

Of course they'd screwed around. There was no question of that. Both of them had been extremely curious during puberty, and Ulquiorra was always so mechanical and deliberate in his thought processes that Shuhei had just gone along with it, but Jesus Shuhei had never expected to be so fascinated with the male anatomy as he was after his awakening. They hadn't fucked at first, just given each other hand jobs, which soon evolved into blow jobs, and from there, the sky was the limit.

And somehow, through all of it, they had managed to stay inseparable friends. Ulquiorra still screwed chicks with bleached hair and multiple piercings, and then would come over to Shuhei's after and tell him about it as Shuhei was ball's deep in his tight ass. Shuhei wasn't complaining, not at all, because having a friend like that meant he didn't have to hunt for anyone or worry about making it public that he was gay.

He'd never even kissed a girl. Didn't need to. He just looked at a woman and his dick practically retracted into his body. It physically hurt if a girl brushed by him at a party, or put her drunken hands on him and whispered nasty shit to him that he didn't want to hear. Ulquiorra had never talked dirty to him. Hell, he wasn't even sure if the bastard knew how, and he was definitely not turned on by some stoned chick rubbing her goods all over him, thinking he was some bad-ass play boy because of his punk looks.

He loved Ulquiorra, but not like that. It was a friendship he knew he would take to the grave, but it wasn't the butterflies and the murmured pillow talk that Shuhei associated with true love. Ulquiorra had told him multiple times that it was an exchange of conveniences, and Shuhei knew that Ulquiorra had never and would never lie to him. He was too straightforward for that, so he was thankful that Ulquiorra didn't harbor some hidden feelings for him. Neither were taking advantage of the other: it was just…there.

Shuhei moved to lie on his side, putting a hand on the side of Ulquiorra's face as he drew him into a kiss, their tongues lazy as Ulquiorra began to respond to him. Ulquiorra was usually submissive, but Shuhei loved it when he got hot and bothered and started taking control.

Ulquiorra pushed Shuhei onto his back, pushing the covers out of the way to stare at his naked hips as he began to nip and lick down Shuhei's chest. Shuhei's head still pounded from the insane night before, but his body was awakening and he knew Ulquiorra would skip school with him. Sometimes Shuhei felt like he was monopolizing Ulquiorra. After all, Ulquiorra was a lot smarter than Shuhei and actually cared about his studies. Shuhei had stopped caring the moment he realized that good grades couldn't buy time with his parents, couldn't make them pay attention to him.

Again, sad. But that was what Shuhei had believed. Shuhei had always been alone. If it wasn't for Ulquiorra, his friend since secondary, he would still be alone.

**XXX**

Shuhei sighed, head resting on his hand. Ulquiorra had managed to talk him into going to school after lunch so that they could at least enjoy their favorite class, advanced art composition. Ulquiorra had always done it for fun, needing an elective activity to graduate, but Shuhei treated it like god. Art had always been an outlet for him, a way of life. He couldn't breathe without it, couldn't think. His notebooks were filled with doodles and inked drawings; canvases and different kinds of acrylic paint had always littered his room. He could almost always be found with dried paint under his black painted fingernails or trailing down his hands, glued to his elbows. It was another reason he preferred to wear black: it hid spills well.

He was currently sitting on a high stool, elbow on his knee, head in his hand as he stared at a canvas roughly the size of a door. Blank whiteness stared back at him, taunting him.

"You've had that canvas for nearly a week," a dry voice taunted.

Shuhei allowed his eyes to flicker over to the annoying prick, "Suck it, Ishida."

"You'd like that. I don't swing that way."

"Fooled me," Shuhei snorted, "between your haircut and your little sewing hobby I was ready to see a rainbow shoot out of your ass."

"Bite me," Ishida said scathingly.

Shuhei grinned while licking his lips, knowing it would piss the nerd off to no end, "I'd do more than bite'cha, Ishida."

"Hardly, you Neanderthal," he said matter-of-factly, pushing his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose. What the obsessive perfectionist was doing in art composition was beyond Shuhei, but the bastard was at least half decent as an artist, "Besides, you're deflecting. The end of the quarter is nearly upon us and you aren't even close to accomplishing your concentration piece."

Shuhei stood up from the stool, his eyes flickering over the empty canvas one more time before passing Ulquiorra who was busy moving a paintbrush silently over his canvas. Ulquiorra gave him a look that read _'if you would like me to disembowel the annoying fuck, please say so'._ Shuhei was just not in the mood for any of it.

It wasn't like their art teacher was strict anyway. Shuhei left the classroom, determined to wander the halls until he could focus and find a spark of inspiration.

**XXX**

Gin Ichimaru was used to rumors. Hell, most of the time he found them entertaining.

But some rumors were bad for business, and Gin couldn't have that.

"Ya mind runnin' tha' by me again?" he said quietly, his natural smirk in place as he stared at the boy and girl who had approached him.

"I-I heard," the girl began again, her voice rushed, "Th-that you'll take favors in place of cash for snow."

Gin tilted his head, regarding the girl, "Nani? What kinda favors?"

Her face turned beet red, "Y-you know…stuff."

"If she sucks you off, will you give us a gram?" the boy said, no longer beating around the bush.

Gin allowed his smirk to grow until he knew it had made the pair extremely uncomfortable, "Nah, not if she does it."

"What?" the girl said, actually looking slightly offended. As if Gin cared.

"But maybe if you did it," Gin said, pointing at the boy with one long, pale finger, "I'll give 'ya two grams if ya let me cum on 'yer face."

"You son of a…!" the boy began, his fist recoiling before he seemed to freeze and remember himself.

_Aw. They always remember in the end, ne? Who I am, anyway._

Gin missed the good old days where he could rile people up enough for them to punch him so that he could take out some of his pent-up frustrations. Gin wasn't always as laid back as he appeared; he could get hotheaded and heated just as easily as Nnoitra or Grimmjow, or Shirosaki for that matter, and the only ways he found to take out his aggression were either found in fighting or in humiliating others.

He supposed sex too.

Gin shrugged his shoulders, "Yer' loss. Get lost. Don't ever ask me again."

"But…"

"Get. Lost," Gin said, opening his eyes completely and watching the girl visibly shudder as the boy grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around, hurrying away before they could make him even more angry than he already was.

Shirosaki cackled next to him just as the warning bell rang, ushering students to hurry to their next class.

"Tha' was priceless," Shirosaki said, "but were 'ya serious? What if he'd said yes?"

Gin offered his long time friend another carefree smirk, "I've never paid 'fer someone 'ta suck me off before. I sure as hell ain't gonna start now."

Gin parted ways with his friend to head to music appreciation, Shirosaki's cackles echoing down the emptying hallways.

**XXX**

_Too much noise._

Gin shifted on his commandeered row of chairs in the band room. He had been lying across them trying to catch a well-deserved nap but the chorus of noises coming from flutes, saxophones, a piano, and other assorted instruments were slowly driving him insane. The cymbals crashed behind him and the snare drums were making more noise than actual music. Gin shook his head slightly, wondering what had possessed their teacher to assign such a ridiculous project.

The teacher, a flamboyant and feminine man, was constantly reminding the students to be more beautiful than anybody else, and that music was an expression of humanity's beauty. Or the soul, or whatever. Yumichika-sensei was, in Gin's opinion, extremely strange.

The assignment was rather simple: show your personality, or the 'beauty of your soul', through music. Most were struggling while some sat smugly with their instruments, having played them for most of their lives and feeling that they had achieved their goals as artists. Yumichika-sensei flitted about the room, reminding students to use creativity and express perfection. The guy seriously had to have a screw loose, especially with the outfit he had going on today, which consisted of tight red leather pants, a flowing black top, and a tie that looked like it was made out of feathers in yellow, red, and pink. The complete effect hurt Gin's eyes.

"Gin-san, why aren't you practicing? I'm giving you plenty of time in class to complete this assignment," Yumichika chirped, standing over Gin's stretched out form, his hands on his hips, "If you're feeling unwell, my beautiful self would be more than happy to give you a hall pass to the nurse's station."

"Too much noise," Gin said, running a hand through his silver locks, "Can't think."

"I find that hard to believe, my little prodigy," Yumichika said with a perfectly plucked eyebrow raised, "But I understand. Since you're one of my favorites, feel free to use one of the tutoring classrooms next door, but I DO expect you to be practicing."

"Sure sure," Gin grinned, hoisting the sleek acoustic guitar into his lap before standing up and walking towards the classroom door, ignoring the few murmurs and stares. He was used to it. He knew what they saw: a drug-carting delinquent with a shady past and an even shadier future.

Sometimes he agreed with them.

**XXX**

Shuhei continued down the hallway, deciding to head down the stairwell and onto the lower level. It was the music wing of the school but there were also old tutoring rooms there that were abandoned during school hours. Shuhei was used to going down there to take a nap or read during lunch if he wasn't up on the roof smoking with Ulquiorra.

He was almost always on the rooftop, talking quietly with his best friend as he watched the other delinquents congregate and eat together or smoke together. His eyes would always search for that tall slender frame, those slit eyes and that smirk.

Some days, he couldn't take being that close to the fellow student without being able to touch him, so he'd come to one of the tutor's rooms to clear his head and knock some sense into his skull.

What a pathetic, ridiculous crush.

And he couldn't even explain it. It was like one day he had woken up and only had eyes for the silver-haired teen, and it made him feel a little nervous and sick inside. It wasn't as if Ichimaru Gin appeared out of thin air. They'd been classmates for three years for Kami's sake.

And Shuhei couldn't pinpoint the moment he had begun a slight obsession with the shifty fox. Sure he checked guys out, who didn't? But the fact that when the silver-haired fox came into his vision his stomach would lurch and his throat would tighten and his palms would start sweating…

_It's scary. _

Ulquiorra had caught him staring on several occasions but had never said anything about it. Shuhei loved him for it.

Shuhei stopped in his internal reverie, the hallway eerily quiet except for a guitar melody that had goose bumps racing up and down his spine as he listened. It wasn't coming from the chorus room: he'd already passed that and turned another corner, leading him to the top of the T-shaped hallway. A dead end.

He followed the sound. It got slightly louder as he approached a half-open classroom door.

**XXX**

Shuhei stood silently, watching Ichimaru's fingers pluck idly at the acoustic. Long white graceful fingers that caressed the strings like a lover. The melody was soft and downright heartbreaking, haunting in a way that made his heart hurt to listen to it.

But he wanted to listen to it. He hadn't even known that Ichimaru was in the music department.

The music suddenly stopped, Ichimaru's palm tapping the sleek-looking wood, "I didn' ask fer an audience."

Shuhei stepped to the side, revealing himself fully. It was ridiculous: even though he was still technically in the hallway, he felt as if he were trapped. Ichimaru still sat perched on the edge of the old teacher desk, acoustic resting comfortably in his lap as he offered Shuhei slit eyes with a mysterious expression that wasn't his usual smirk.

Shuhei was so used to seeing Gin's face with a smile that the expression completely through him off, "Uh-um…"

Gin's face relaxed, his mouth pulling up in one corner and making Shuhei's heart lurch in his chest, "Ah, the prince of paint. I'm honored, Shu-chan."

"Don't call me that," Shuhei said petulantly, folding his arms over his chest and averting his eyes.

"Wha? Yer reputation precedes 'ya," Gin continued, his fingers beginning to play with the guitar almost absentmindedly, "I've seen some of yer work. Yer goin' to Karakura University on an art scholarship, yeah?"

"How did you know about that?" Shuhei said, stepping farther into the classroom. Ichimaru had always made him nervous. Nervous for a lot of reasons.

Gin smiled and Shuhei almost convinced himself that it was genuine, "Because yer grades aren't gonna get'cha there. Talent's more important anyways. You look like the kind of guy that won't let mommy and daddy pay his way."

Shuhei didn't know whether to be offended or flattered. Ichimaru had always been dangerously perceptive. Shuhei honestly didn't know him that well. Of course they were classmates, but they ran in completely different circles. Gin sold blow to Ulquiorra occasionally, but Shuhei had never personally approached him for drugs or anything else for that matter.

Although he had wanted to. He'd always been sickeningly attracted to the silver-haired fox demon.

He cleared his throat, "You're right. Mommy and daddy want me to go to law school."

Gin chuckled, his fingers pausing their ministrations, "It's a joke, isn't it? How parents think they know what's best 'fer 'ya."

Shuhei had somehow, magically, drawn closer to the fox. He knew it was stupid, but a part of him didn't care. He'd always been apprehensive of the delinquent, somehow afraid of him yet still attracted. It was like watching fire, "My mom's just a stupid bitch. Thinks art should be bought and hung in the dining room for company to admire. She doesn't give a fuck that I make it myself."

Gin looked thoughtful, his eyes still in slits, "Then you'll just have 'ta destroy that dining room of hers, ne? Can't help ignorance, Shu-chan. The world's full of ignoran' bastards that're gonna tell ya how ta' live yer life."

Shuhei took a seat on the other side of the teacher's desk, as far away from Gin as he could get without falling off of it, "And you? What do your parents say?"

Gin's smile was slow as syrup, his eyes opening slightly to reveal slivers of the ice that Shuhei dreamed about, "Nothin'. Mum's locked up in tha' loony bin and my Da killed himself two years ago."

"Fuck," Shuhei breathed, not able to look into Gin's face after hearing that, "I mean, sorry."

"Ya don't have'ta pretend with me," Gin said, his silver bangs falling like rain over his eyes as he bowed his head to continue whatever song he had been playing before. It was extremely soft, a lulling lullaby, "If there's anybody that ain't gonna bullshit with'ya, it's me, Shu-chan."

"Call me Shuhei," Shuhei said in what he hoped was an indignant tone. He wouldn't admit that his blood felt warmer after hearing Gin refer to him as a friend, "unless you want me to call you something ridiculous."

"Feel free," Gin chuckled, "I've got lots of names."

Shuhei let time slip by as he sat by Gin's side, listening to the music he created. Shuhei closed his eyes, a strange peace in his chest.

He only felt this way when his muse was well and alive, when his eyes watched paint mingle and streak and weave on a canvas, when he was lying on his back on his bed listening to the latest ZANPAKUTO album, feeling strangely happy to be alone.

Whatever Gin was playing was soothing, although the undertone was still eerie.

Shuhei couldn't explain it. Like erotic horror, something intoxicating and deadly.

"You're amazing," Shuhei sighed before his brain could process he had spoken aloud.

The strumming stopped and Shuhei's eyes flew open.

"The music," Shuhei quickly elaborated, feeling his face flush ten shades of red.

Gin smirked as the bell rang, waking Shuhei from his dreamlike stupor, "It was nice chattin' with 'ya, Shuhei. Don' be a stranger, ne?"

Shuhei nodded once dumbly as Gin stood up from the desk and walked out of the classroom, students beginning to make noise in the hallways.

Shuhei ignored the goose bumps on his flesh and left the room.

**XXX**

"Impressive."

Although it was said in a monotone, Shuhei knew that it was sincere. Ulquiorra did not give praise lightly.

"Thanks," Shuhei said, getting up off of his knees to stand back from the canvas. He had been working on a lower section and it didn't help that he was tall. His knees were screaming in agony from how much time he had spent on the floor, sweat on his brow. He could feel it pooling at the dip of his lower back, "But I'm not done."

Ulquiorra said nothing as Shuhei studied what he had completed of the large painting. He'd been working dutifully on it for over two weeks, even staying late after school to get more time in with it. The canvas was large, after all.

"Strange choice of composition," Ishida said, ruining what bit of peace Shuhei had been feeling about his work, "It's…creepy."

"It's extraordinary," Aporro-sensei said, having materialized from the other side of the room where he had been critiquing another student's nearly-finished piece, "I am not especially fond of surrealism, but this is done so masterfully I cannot help but to applaud your dark technique."

Shuhei smirked: the pink-haired art teacher referred to Shuhei's shading and overabundant use of shadows as 'the dark art'. Shuhei thought it would make a rad name for a gallery showing one day.

Other students were gathering around to appraise it, some staring boredly while others looked like they were staring at a Van Gogh.

A misty backdrop gave birth to several fox spirits, all of them looking wispy and untouchable, as if they were made out of cumulonimbus. Some snarled, some smirked, their features lifelike down to the details in their pupils to the ripple of muscle beneath their thick coats of fur. It looked to be almost ritualistic with how they were arranged, as if they were on the hunt or engaging in a sacred dance known only to their kind. One fox dominated the piece, not quite centered, his mouth open to reveal a fanged snake emerging, the snake's scales looking so cold and shiny that Shuhei had the urge to stroke the canvas and see if it would in fact have the texture of snakeskin.

How something so scary could look so enticing was beyond Shuhei's understanding.

_'Don't be a stranger, ne?'_

Shuhei felt warmth in the pit of his stomach as he set his paints down.

...

**Hey all. I decided that it would be easier for everyone if I just 'continued' from Tell Me Tomorrow instead of making a whole new story to follow. I am extremely excited about the new points of view and you all know how I feel about Gin so this should be very entertaining and a good exercise for me and please drop me a review I'm excited. ** ~TPP


	16. Tie Me Down II

**Tie Me Down**

Chapter Two: Monster

….

_"You won't try to save me, you just want to hurt me."_

_–Silverstein 'My Heroine'_

…..

The next few days of class were uneventful. Shuhei saw the fox's silver hair in the hallways, watched him laugh and play around with his crew from afar. When Shuhei wasn't pretending to not be checking Gin out, he had his nose in a sketchbook or was absorbing himself in his music while painting. Gin never went out of his way to greet Shuhei, so Shuhei returned the favor.

Today Shuhei sat quietly at his chemistry table, waiting for class to start. He turned his head up as he heard the Jaegerjaques kid enter, his voice a deep rumble as he told his snakelike companion to shut up. Gin's amused laughter made goose bumps race up and down his spine.

"Alright, everybody," Yoruichi-sensei announced, adjusting her lab coat, "It's about time you kitties got assigned an actual lab project."

The thirty or so students all moaned and grumbled while Shuhei doodled aimlessly in his notebook. He was off in his own little world again, trying to filter in sensei's drabble while simultaneously drawing.

"…this project will account for forty percent of your overall grade…"

_A new tattoo design…_

"…you will be put into pairs. This will be a joint effort…"

_Were sakura blossoms too girly? Shuhei was secure in his masculinity, besides, it would make the oranges and reds of the carp fish pop…_

"…but I will be assigning your partners in alphabetical order."

Shuhei snapped his head up, completely surprised. Yoruichi-sensei had always allowed group projects to be done by lab partners, i.e., the two kids that sat at the same lab table together were stuck together for the year's projects. He'd always been content to have Ulquiorra for a partner.

"Alphabetical order?" one of the girls asked, her voice sounding nervous.

"Yes, I have the role call here and when I call your names, please arrange yourselves at the appropriate lab tables starting from the ones closest to the front. We'll work our way back as I call off the pairs. Everybody understand?"

More grumbling as Shuhei was still trying to process Yoruichi-sensei's new form of torture. Dammit, he needed a good partner: chemistry wasn't the easiest thing on the planet, and he didn't want to get stuck with somebody just as terrible as him.

"…and Hinamori Momo."

Everybody was standing up at this point and beginning to move out of the way of the other students that were taking over the new lab tables. Shuhei sighed, knowing his name was next.

"…Hisagi Shuhei and Ichimaru Gin…"

_Oh shit._

Gin grabbed the silver stool next to Shuhei in the next minute, twirling it around on one peg in a clockwise motion before rocking into it and sitting down.

Gin put one elbow on the lab table, chin in the palm, eyes hidden in those slits. When Yoruichi announced Jaegerjaques and Kurosaki as partners, Shuhei took a quick glance at Gin when he chuckled low beneath his breath.

Shuhei cocked an eyebrow, wondering why it was so humorous. Gin opened his eyes suddenly, his intense focus on Shuhei's face.

* * *

Shuhei scowled, a scowl that Gin thought was very much like the Kurosaki brat's.

_But this one...this one's scarily delicious. _

Gin, thankful to have Shuhei's sudden and undivided attention, shot him a crooked grin and winked.

* * *

_Did he just wink at me_? Shuhei thought, which only made him scowl at Gin harder.

"Heyya, Shu-chan. Ya miss me?" Gin said with a slight upward turn of his lips. Just that tiny motion alone made Shuhei's dick stir.

Shuhei raised an eyebrow at him, not sure if he should be amused or irritated.

Gin didn't seem bothered in the slightest by Shuhei's silence. He just kept staring with that mysterious smile, arm propped up on the table, exposing the black ink that popped against the pale skin of his fingers and hands and the colorful tattoo work on his inner forearm.

Shuhei was naturally curious about tattoo work. Hell, he was practically a living canvas, but he knew Espada gang colors. He had nearly forgotten how dangerous the laidback boy actually was.

He'd been so busy staring he hadn't heard Yoruichi sensei ask him a pointed question.

"Hisagi, care to answer the question?"

Shuhei looked up at his sensei, embarrassed, "Uh, sorry, what?"

There were stifled laughs. Yoruichi narrowed her cat-like eyes slightly. She was one of the toughest teachers in the school, and since it was an honor's class, she didn't play around.

"I'm sorry, did you not hear the question?" she asked sarcastically, ready to spit fire. Shuhei felt like sinking through the floor before he heard Gin sigh quietly.

"The line between covalent and ionic bonds isn't sharp," Gin's voice said rather silkily, drawing Shuhei's eyes to the delinquent. Gin's eyes were open and on Yoruichi, his head still resting on his hand, expression bored, "The bond between a pair 'a identical atoms is purely covalent, 'cuz neither has a stronger attraction than tha' other for the bonding electrons. But when the atoms are different, even slightly, the bonding electrons are shared unequally and the bond has some ionic character."

"The bonding electrons on the negative ion tend 'ta spend more time on the side facing the positive ion," at this sentence, Gin smirked at Shuhei, making his face heat up, "They spend extra time in the space between the ions, and so are always 'shared' 'ta some small degree."

Shuhei stared at Gin like he'd just eaten a human baby. Grimmjow chuckled along with a couple female students as Yoruichi stared at Gin with a pointed glare.

GiGin smiled innocently, flashing his teeth to the teacher, "May, that is the correct answer, yeah? Yoruichi-sensei?"

"Don't get cheeky with me, Ichimaru," she said with a crooked grin, "Next time how about you keep the correct answers to yourself?"

"Hai," Gin replied, exposing his pale glacier eyes and making Shuhei shiver, "After all, nobody likes a smart ass."

_I do_, Shuhei thought internally.

"Not another peep the rest of the class, Ichimaru," Yoruichi threatened as she turned to the board and started writing down formulas.

"Mah, sure thing, sensei."

* * *

About a week later, Shuhei was forced to have Ichimaru over at his house to start up the chemistry project he needed to ace to pass the class. He wasn't stupid, but chemistry sure as hell wasn't his strongest subject.

They'd been (kind of) interacting in class. Ichimaru was always smirking, being his mysterious self as usual, and Shuhei had felt so out of place trying to create small talk between them. He felt like his attraction was constantly hanging over his head, like he was going to say the wrong thing at the wrong time and Ichimaru would lose what little interest he had in the goth painter.

Shuhei felt like his laughter and smiles were genuine, but it was hard to get much out of Ichimaru that felt real. They mostly did their lab work together, but when they had free time, most conversation revolved around music, art, and tattoos. Shuhei had been pleasantly surprised to learn how diverse Gin's taste in music was, even more diverse than Shuhei himself.

And Shuhei couldn't complain about their conversations about tattoos. Gin had actually touched Shuhei's right arm, smoothing over the sleeve work he'd had done over the course of a few months, impressed by the craftsmanship. Shuhei had talked about his reliable tattoo artist with sick talent, a tall blonde by the name of Ilforte Grantz at a shop called Garganta, and Shuhei had been surprised to learn that Gin had gotten his work done at the same shop albeit a different artist. Shuhei had known about Nnoitra being an apprentice tattoo artist at the shop, but he'd never talked to him outright, but now he was thinking his next tat might be done by the tall, lanky delinquent considering his careful, slick penmanship that inked Gin's hands, right at the base of his knuckles, the script done in a rolling font across both hands:

"We Cry Wolf Under The Hemorrhaging Crown"

So dope. It just made Shuhei want to lick him even more now. Song lyrics were another huge passion of his, and Gin told him he'd bring a mix cd of Skrillex to Shuhei's house when they met up for the project to let him check the band out for himself.

* * *

Shuhei had initially been nervous about Gin coming to his house. Gin hadn't made it sound like an option, and if Shuhei was going to be completely honest, he'd rather do it at his own house then be temped to go to Gin's.

Gin actually showed up on time, looking casual, his smile so big it made Shuhei's heart clench. Shit.

Somehow, though, things hadn't gotten awkward or strange. Gin had given Shuhei the mixed cd, claiming he'd brought over a couple in case they ended up working late. Shuhei was glad Gin was used to background music when he studied or worked on schoolwork, because there was no way Shuhei could even try to concentrate without it. Music was a constant, a must, in both boys' lives.

Two cds and a chemistry chart later, Shuhei decided to make them something to eat. It was dinnertime, anyway, and Shuhei wouldn't admit that he wanted to show off to Gin a little bit. He was used to cooking for himself. His mother was rarely home and when she was, she chose to eat out rather than make a homecooked meal. He didn't want to admit that it felt good to cook for someone else.

Gin ate everything Shuhei sat in front of him lke a starving man before grinning at him. Shuhei felt butterflies in his stomach, "You're gonna be the perfect wife someday, Shu-chan."

"Shut up," Shuhei said, his arms crossed over his chest, embarrassed, "are we going to work on this project or not?"

Gin nodded, that mysterious smile on his face as he revealed his ice blue eyes, a blue so pale it was almost silver, "Hai, why don't we try 'ta finish this part up?"

Three hours later, Shuhei's brain was about ready to explode. He wasn't stupid by any means, but chemistry was his worst subject. Gin used big long words and talked about concepts so foreign to Shuhei's mind he might as well be speaking in another language.

"I'll write 'tha paper," Gin said, putting his chin on his hand as he stared across the table, "That okay with ya?"

"Yah, whatever."

After another fifteen minutes of scientific babble, Shuhei blurted, "If your this damn smart, how come you're thirteenth in the class?"

Gin grinned and set his pen down, "Cuz. The other kids, like Ishida and Kurosaki…they work really hard. They have plans, ya know? They got…ambition."

"Have you ever been tested?" Shuhei asked, not getting Gin's logic.

He nodded, "When I was six, again when I was sixteen."

Shuhei was surprised: _why get your IQ tested twice?_

"So…are you a genius or something?"

Gin shrugged one shoulder, the action somehow cute in Shuhei's eyes, "It's got nothin' 'ta do with being smart, really. I have an eidetic memory: basically anythin' I read, I understand, and once I understand it, I can't forget it. Once it's in my brain, it's stuck 'fer good. I like 'ta read, love it, really, and the doc said my brain processes about ten 'ta twenty thousands words per minute."

Shuhei just gaped at him, wondering what the hell this genius drug dealer as still doing in high school, "_What_?"

"Mah, I love 'ta read. It's good 'fer ya," Gin said, closing his chemistry textbook, "I'm surprised I told'ya. Even Grimm don't know tha' about me."

Shuhei was flattered.

"So why aren't you in college? You could even go abroad with a brain like that."

Gin shrugged, "I ain't goin' anywhere. There's no reason to."

"So what? You just gonna sell blow the rest of your life?" Shuhei blurted, instantly wishing he'd kept his mouth shut. The last thing he wanted was for Gin to think he was too good for a drug dealer, a stuck up, spoiled rich kid. Considering Gin had barely commented on anything in Shuhei's house or stared too long at expensive things, only confirmed Shuhei's fascination with the gang banger more.

He was so…different, and Shuhei didn't want to fuck their growing relationship up, even if it was, sadly, just a friendship. Right now.

"Nah, but 'fer now, that's what I gotta do."

Shuhei ruffled his own chemistry notes just to give his hands something to do. He could feel Gin's eyes on him, so he looked up, surprised at the lopsided smirk.

Gin grinned, "I tell 'ya way too much. I wonder why that is."

Shuhei blushed and looked away just as Kid CuDi's 'Mojo So Dope' began blowing up Gin's phone:

_"My bloodline runs deep, unless I don't sleep, _

_Figured it's my Pop's keepin' me away,_

_Help me keep my mind off the clouds for reality_

_These mothafuckers can't fathom the wizardry…"_

Gin grabbed it off the table and slid it open after seeing who it was, "Mah mah, didn't expect 'ta hear from 'ya so soon."

Shuhei tried to act interested in his notes, but it was hard not to eavesdrop. He was sure it had to do with gang activity as Gin's face looked unnaturally serious.

"Yah, I'll stop by. Leavin' right now," Gin said before hanging up, looking at Shuhei with a blank expression, "Sorry, Shu. Duty calls."

Shuhei just nodded dumbly as Gin gathered his stuff together, throwing it in his black backpack. Shuhei walked Gin to the door, surprised how sad he felt at the thought of Gin leaving.

Gin opened one of the massive front doors, stepping halfway out before pausing and turning to look back at Shuhei, "Ya should come 'ta my place next time, ne?"

"Uh, sure. Yeah."

"It's'a date, then."

Shuhei didn't sleep much that night.

* * *

Over a month later on a weeknight, Shuhei found himself in the alleyway behind _SERETEI_, the music muffled by the thick graffiti-covered walls, giving him and Ulquiorra some privacy.

Ulquiorra had dragged him out, telling him he needed to stop obsessing over his fox paintings and get out and get some action, shake off some stress. Shuhei knew he was right: his fixation on Ichimaru wasn't healthy, especially when he was getting extremely mixed signals from Ichimaru.

_Every time I think it's a green light, I hit a mother fucking stop sign._

Shuhei had only had one beer at this point, even though the hour was late. Ulquiorra had dragged him through the dancing, sweaty bodies out in the alley to do some bumps, and SHuhei hadn't refused. Maybe the cocaine would help him relax.

Ulquiorra went first, then passed the baggie to Shuhei, letting him hit three bumps. Shuhei whipped the residue on his top gum line, almost instantly going numb.

He heard Ulquiorra snort a couple more, Shuhei's brain suddenly feeling like it was melting and exploding at the same time, "Got pills?"

"Of course," Ulquiorra replied dryly, digging in his back pocket to pull out some loose Xanex pills. Ulquiorra dropped three in Shuhei's hand, watching him put them away in his own pocket.

Valium. Perkoset. Xanex. All of these were useful. Both boys needed them to knock them out before they started to come down from their high, before things got too dark, too crazy, too ugly. The comedown was always wicked, and neither boy ever looked forward to it. The pills always helped. Shuhei usually had them on him, but he hadn't raided his mom's stash of prescriptions in a while, considering she was constantly hiding them in different locations. She had never confronted her son about it because she didn't care.

Shuhei knew this. It barely phased him. He'd been stealing from his own mother since middle school. They had always had enough money to burn, and it proved. For the past couple months, Shuhei was buying two to three grams a day, enough to make a person working full time go broke pretty fast. Of course, Shuhei shared his stashes with Ulquiorra and vise versa and whoever else they happened to party with.

"Wha' the fuck are 'ya doin'?"

Shuhei looked over to see Gin silhouetted not too far from the dumpster he and Ulquiorra had started bumping by. His throat burned from his last bump, spit accumulating in his mouth. He almost choked, his eyes watering.

"What does it look like?" Ulquiorra said, "you are welcome to join us, Ichimaru."

Gin sidled over, his face a serious mask. It was scarier than seeing obvious anger, but Kami was he angry.

Fate sure liked to fuck with him to have the kitsune appear out of thin air. To be fair, Shuhei knew that Ichimaru frequented this club scene: said he could make about a thousand American in about an hour and a half.

Gin removed a tiny clear baggie of blow from his pants pocket, holding it up with two slim fingers, his eyes on Ulquiorra, "One gram 'ta scram."

Ulquiorra looked from the baggie to Shuhei before shrugging and slipping the baggie into his jeans pocket, "I'll call you later, Shuhei."

Shuhei watched him leave, his mind already fucking with him. Cocaine was unpredictable, and Shuhei had never been this high in front of Gin before.

He knew how Gin felt about using and abusing.

He yelped when he felt Gin's hand slam into his chest, pushing him back against the dumpster with a loud clang.

Gin's eyes bored into him, "Ya lied 'ta me."

Of course Shuhei had. Shuhei had never bought his cocaine off of Gin before, but somehow Gin had read enough signs to know that Shuhei used. He hadn't been happy about it, not at all, which had surprised Shuhei greatly. He was the weirdest, self-righteous drug dealer Shuhei had ever met.

And yes, Shuhei had lied about how frequently he used, claiming to only do it when he wanted to have a crazy weekend, which was once in a blue moon.

It was a fucking Wednesday.

Shuhei snorted hard to make his nose stop burning. Blow residue was on the tips of his fingers. He slipped the key he had been using to make the bumps into his pocket, "Fucking hypocrite. I'm slamming the shit you sold Ulquiorra yesterday, so I'm practically your paying fucking customer. Why don't you shut up and have fun for once?"

"Fun?" Gin said, the classic smirk coming back. He lifted Shuhei's hand that still had residue and licked two of his fingers, making Shuhei's spine tingle. He had just licked most of the residue free.

This confused Shuhei: Gin claimed to be clean.

_Or maybe he was just that angry._

"This is _fun_ for you? When your so blitzed ya can't even remember 'yer name?"

"You're not my dad!" Shuhei bellowed, pounding his fist into Gin's chest, his nerves singing by this point.

"Yer right."

Shuhei was more confused than anything when he felt Gin's lips against his, firm and warm. SHuhei groaned, his nails raking against Gin's shirt, bliss pumping through his veins as strongly as the narcotics.

Gin pulled away to lick at the shell of Shuhei's ear, "Everythin' ya do has consequences, Shuhei."

Shuhei stayed silent until Gin palmed his erection and rubbed slightly, making Shuhei whine. Apparently he hadn't done enough blow yet, considering he was getting a massive, pounding erection.

"Ya don't need this shit 'ta have a good time," Gin whispered, "Whenever ya need 'ta escape reality 'fer a lil' while, ya got me. Ya don't need anythin' else."

Shuhei groaned as Gin released him, his face back in that eternal grin as he turned to walk away.

Shuhei grabbed at the front of Gin's black V-neck shirt, tugging him back, "What the fuck do you want from me?"

"It's not about what I want," Gin said, releasing Shuhei's grip to put his hand forcefully on Shuhei's chin, holding his head in place, "It's about what you want, ain't it?"

_Enough talk_, Shuhei decided, not sure if he had announced it out loud or not. He kissed Ichimaru urgently, his heart feeling like it was going to rupture. Yes, yes this was what he wanted.

_More more more_.

"Come home with me," he murmured against Gin's lips before blindly feeling through Gin's jeans.

"What do you want?" Gin groaned, his tongue working dangerous magic on Shuhei's earlobe.

"You. Me. Bed. Naked," Shuhei ground out, unashamed of his behavior. _Both were past pretending at this point, weren't they?_

Shuhei scraped his nails across Gin's arms, "Fuck me, I don't care. Just don't stop touching me."

* * *

Gin stiffened, his hands immediately pulling Shuhei's wandering ones off of him, his head pulled back far enough to stop Shuhei's attempts at engaging in another kiss.

_Shit. What tha' fuck am I doin'?_

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Shuhei was supposed to be his safety, the pretty toy on the top shelf that he could always look at but never, ever touch.

Well, that plan had been shot to shit.

He was usually so calm, so in control, but when he had come outside for a cigarette and a moment's quiet from the club he'd been angry enough to shoot someone with his Aizen-issued glock.

So angry, and for what? Because the kid was trying to escape his life? Have a little fun? Get loose? Gin should have been able to understand those things, considering he pushed the narcotics for a living.

And yes, yes he had pictured himself fucking the shorter tattooed artist a million fucking times in a dozen different scenarios.

But he couldn't, not really. Shuhei was too good for him, and Gin knew it. He had talent, was going to go places with that talent, and Gin didn't have any right to drag Shuhei into his world, into the belly of the beast.

It gave Gin chills just thinking about letting Shuhei touch that part of him, see everything. He had known Shuhei was gay, had heard enough rumors and had known the kid had feelings for him, obvious feelings, and he'd played along to a certain extent because that's who Gin was.

He was selfish.

And that selfishness was backfiring now, because the one boy on the planet he connected with on a personal level besides his own crew, his gang brothers, was somebody he didn't dare touch.

Because Gin broke things. He smashed them, destroyed them. He was a messy monster, and he couldn't do that to Shuhei, even though his body was fighting him valiantly right now, begging him to give in to the blatant and sexy invitation.

_If I do tha', I lose 'im._

"You're a real fucking piece of work," Shuhei spat, arms crossed over his chest, his breathing sped up, "I'm practically throwing myself at you: I know you know I like you, and you seem to like me, at least that's what I thought the vibes were. One second I think we got a connection and the next day I don't matter. We talk for hours, and we're honest, and you know shit about me that I've never told anybody, and then you close up and don't tell me a goddamn thing about yourself or your past. I wanna _know_ you, and I want you, but if you're not into me, then just say so!"

Gin considered Shuhei's little rant, slightly surprised. Shuhei had been less and less shy around him lately, and it was true that they'd been talking to each other a lot more lately, and not just in school. Shuhei scowled at the pavement, Gin unable to take his eyes off of him.

"Yer worried what I think about'cha?"

Shuhei was silent, not looking Gin in the face, but Gin wasn't having any of that. He grabbed Shuhei by the chin and tilted his head until Shuhei was forced to look at him. Gin leaned in, his breath ghosting across Shuhei's cheeks, his icy eyes focused intently on Shuhei's, "Yer worried I don't find'ya 'tractive? Sexy? That I don't want'cha? 'Cuz that's the problem, Shuhei. I want'cha more than I've ever wanted anybody. Ya make my bones hot."

* * *

_Ya make my bones hot._

Shuhei shivered, not knowing how his own fingers had found themselves tugging at the edge of Gin's black belt, his eyes trailing the edge of the exposed black boxers barely peeking out of his grey jeans, and just above that, a smidge of cream-white skin before the beginning of the black V-neck tee.

Shuhei felt his gut roll, "Then what's the problem?"

Gin took a step back, fingers cold as they trailed over Shuhei's, gently removing his fingers from tugging on his belt, from luring him in, "Ya don't want me. Not really. What'cha see here, this ain't the real Ichimaru Gin. If ya knew the real monster, the real me, ya'd never wanna do what'cher thinkin' about doin' with me."

Shuhei felt anger rise just as swiftly as the sexual static had, "You honestly think I _care_ about your reputation? What your _game_ is? I know you hustle, so what? You think I don't know-"

Shuhei stopped instantly the moment Gin's face seemed to transform, his slitted eyes looking menacing, angry, his body language dangerous, tense. Shuhei had never seen him like this. He looked anything but carefree.

_"Game?"_ Gin said quietly. Shuhei thought the low timbre only made him more dangerous, "my _game_ puts me and anybody I give a shit about in constant danger. My _game_ got me shot at last year, testin' 'ma luck," Gin lifted the black V-neck on his left side, a raised scar marring the skin between ribcage and hip.

He dropped the shirt, eyes still menacing, mouth a thin line, voice rising, "My _game_ makes sure tha' my customers get so hooked on tha' white monster that they'd be willin' 'ta bleed themselves dry 'fer a bump. My _game_ makes me hunt down 'tha scum tha' can't pay 'ma boss man, makin' me do some very nasty, evil things I ain't ever gonna ferget or be proud of. My _game_ puts me in 'tha sights of some of the meanest motherfuckers 'ya've never met, who'd skull fuck 'ma corpse if I tried 'ta skim a profit or looked at 'em wrong, you spoiled, rich, druggie _brat_."

Ichimaru's eyes disappeared, one of his hands reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, removing a half-used carton of cigarettes. He shook one free, lit it with a lighter from his front pocket, blowing the smoke in Shuhei's face, his eyes still hidden, his expression more serene now, like he was recovering from his sudden anger, "Don't ever talk shit 'ta me tha' ya don't understand, Shuhei. I'll rip those pretty lil' eyes a'yers right outta' their sockets and feed 'em 'ta my snake."

* * *

Shuhei stood still; angry, but shocked. So this was a glimpse of the true monster. Common sense told him to run, to be scared. Maybe it was the heavy drugs coursing through his veins. Maybe it was the undeniable chemistry, attraction, keeping him rooted.

It could have been a lot of things, but Shuhei felt his mind clear despite the fog being coated across his nerves from the narcotics.

Ichimaru blew smoke out of his nose before making to move away. Shuhei grabbed at Gin's forearm, which, in retrospect, had been a very stupid thing to do.

Gin reacted instantly, his cigarette gone flying as his arm came back around, slamming into the center of Shuhei's chest, pushing him back. Shuhei's breath quickened, his eyes narrowed at the gangbanger.

"I'm not scared of monsters, Gin."

Gin's eyes were liquid ice, "Ya should be."

* * *

**A/N: Ah, I got major chills writing "dangerous-don't-fuck-with-me" Gin. I've been waiting a long time to do this, to explore his controversial nature, and it's even more exciting considering it's an AU. Ah, anyways, hope you enjoyed and a review/comment would be nice. What's working, what's not, what you think will happen. Obviously the angst can't last forever ;) -TPP**


	17. Tie Me Down III

_A/N: Been a while. Apologies. This one's short but we'll get there. -TPP_

* * *

**Tie Me Down 3.**

_"I was running in circles I hurt myself just to find my purpose_

_Everything was worthless, I didn't deserve this, _

_but to me you were perfect." _

-'Circles' Hollywood Undead

* * *

_Shuhei stood still, angry but shocked. So this was a glimpse of the true monster. Common sense told him to run, to be scared. Maybe it was the heavy drugs coursing through his veins. Maybe it was the undeniable chemistry, attraction, keeping him rooted._

_It could have been a lot of things, but Shuhei felt his mind clear despite the fog being coated across his nerves from the narcotics._

_Ichimaru blew smoke out of his nose before making to move away. Shuhei grabbed at Gin's forearm, which in retrospect had been a very stupid thing to do._

_Gin reacted instantly, his cigarette gone flying as his arm came back around, slamming into the center of Shuhei's chest, pushing him back. Shuhei's breath quickened, his eyes narrowed at the gangbanger._

_"I'm not scared of monsters, Gin."_

_Gin's eyes were liquid ice, "Ya should be."_

* * *

Gin turned his back to leave, making Shuhei start to feel panicked.

_No. You're not getting away from me again_.

His brain couldn't keep up with his mouth, so he stopped Gin cold with the only thing he could think of.

"It's not that I'm afraid of you: you're afraid of me."

Gin was still facing away from him, but Shuhei watched him caulk his head to the side, a gesture that seemed dangerous. Shuhei was in shark-infested waters.

Or a cobra den.

Gin turned his head enough so that Shuhei could see his profile, his eyes hidden, the classic smirk in place.

"Why'd'ya keep testin' me?"

"Admit it," Shuhei nearly shouted, his breathing irregular. His heart felt like it was going to race right out of his chest, "Admit you're afraid of me, or at least of what I mean to you."

Shuhei waited in silence, Gin still unmoving. Finally, he turned around again, completely facing Shuhei, and he stepped close, close enough that his breath was all Shuhei could feel. The rest of his body felt paralyzed.

Gin's fingers were ice cold as they moved along his cheekbones, stopping at his neck as he leaned in, his breath cool against Shuhei's ear, making him shiver and his dick twitch.

And he whispered, "Ya mean nothin' 'ta me."

Shuhei stopped breathing, his eyes wide. He started shivering, his skin prickling with goose bumps and disbelief.

"Th-that's a lie," Shuhei stammered quietly, trying to make his lungs work again.

_Why? Why. This was not how it was supposed to be._

* * *

_Lie. Lie through your fuckin' TEETH_, Ichimaru ordered himself.

He had been standing on the ledge for far too long, but there was no way he was going to allow himself to fall over that ledge and plummet into destruction.

He wouldn't allow it. Ichimaru Gin would not allow an illusion such as love or affection to invade his personal bubble.

It would confuse him, fuck him up in a way he would never understand, and then he would break.

_Weakness_, his inner voice hissed, _This is what weakness feels like._

"Ha, 'ya think I care whether 'ya believe me or not?" Gin smirked, unable to stop himself from nibbling on the boy's bottom lip before stepping back and releasing him completely, "Don' make me laugh, Shuhei. I have a very ugly laugh."

Gin was almost out of the alley way, almost free, almost able to breathe properly when he heard it, heard it and wished immediately that he hadn't:

"Then prove it."

_Now that's interesting_, "Nani?"

"You heard me," Shuhei said stonily, his voice as dark as his glower. Gin felt himself growing hard just looking at Shuhei's steel-toned eyes, his jaw set in determination. For a wild moment in his mind, Gin threw all of his reservations out of the goddamn moral window and raped him in the alleyway.

"Prove it," Gin repeated as a statement, as if contemplating, "Prove it…prove it…"

Shuhei came towards him, saying something Gin wasn't listening to, something about proving that he felt nothing, nothing, nothing, which Gin did. Gin didn't feel ANYTHING for this…

Did he? No. Of course not. That would be…_disastrous._

For himself. For Shuhei. For the gang. No, truly Gin could feel nothing for this tattooed, lonely artist.

So when Shuhei was close enough, Gin shoved him against the hard brick wall covered in myriads of graffiti with one hand while his other retrieved his Sig Sauer 2022 from the back of his jeans and stuck it underneath Shuhei's chin.

He calked it, enjoying the feel of Shuhei's slightly shaking body. Was that the nerves or the drugs?

"Ya unn'erstan' now?" Gin asked, the weight of the gun in his hand comforting. This he understood. This is what made sense. He'd had to use his gun on more than one occasion, and while his best friend Grimmjow preferred not to carry a gun, Gin found it essential for the scum he dealt with on a weekly basis.

He'd shot someone before. Several someones. He wasn't like other thugs of the city that killed indiscriminately, but he surely hadn't wracked up a death count.

Except for one man a little over a year ago. The killing shot had saved Starrk's life, another comrade, so it had never weighed heavily on Gin's conscience.

Until now, staring into Shuhei's silver eyes, those silver eyes trying to figure him out, trying to make him crack, crack, crack.

"You have two options," Shuhei murmured, making Gin's spine tingle, "Either kiss me, or shoot me. Either way, you can prove yourself."

"Not makin' much sense, Shu-chan."

"You can fuck without feelings," Shuhei elaborated, his voice stronger. Apparently Gin's intimidation technique only went so far.

Sure, he was probably terrified, but he wasn't going to go down with his tail between his legs.

That just made Ichimaru like him more.

Gin groaned, putting his piece away before using both hands to grasp onto the front of Shuhei's shirt and tug him into a ferocious kiss, "Yer' gonna fuckin' destroy me, ain't'cha?"

* * *

Shuhei couldn't answer Gin. He was too busy trying to figure out how to breathe without breaking away from Gin's demanding tongue.

His hands were all over the drug pusher, his fingers digging into hip bones, abdomen, chest, neck, hair. He didn't care. He didn't care where they were or who might see.

Nothing existed outside of this moment, and Shuhei would be damned if he let Ichimaru walk away from him tonight without fucking him into oblivion first.

"My house isn't far," he heard himself say as Gin nipped his adam's apple, "Please, Gin, please please please…"

Gin growled, a low rumble that told Shuhei all he needed to know.

* * *

How Gin managed to make it all the way back to Shuhei's place without killing the punk or fucking him into a coma was beyond him. Maybe all his years of solitude had promoted him godlike patience.

But it didn't matter. The house was empty, as Gin always knew, Shuhei getting pushy once the front door was rattled open.

"My room my room my room," Shuhei chanted to himself as he pulled Gin's tee over his head and ran his fingers down over the creamy perfection.

Gin tugged on Shuhei's hair until he gasped loudly, almost glaring at Gin while Gin waited calmly.

"Go up to 'yer room. When I come in there, 'ya better be naked," Gin ordered, removing his cell phone from his pocket.

"Wha?"

God Shuhei was trying the last of Gin's patience. Every expression he made seemed to make the punk that much more fuckable, "We do this my way or not at all."

Shuhei headed up the stairs, not looking back once as Gin dialed out, catching his breath against the immaculate entryway hall wall.

The phone rang much longer than needed, but Gin was persistent.

"Christ, Gin, you know what fuckin' time it is?" Nnoitra growled into the receiver, his voice lulled from too much weed.

"Like you were sleepin' anyway."

"That ain't the point!" Nnoitra hissed.

"I'm gonna need'ja to pick somethin' up fer' me."

Nnoitra scoffed, "I ain't your errand boy! Get Shiro ta' do it!"

"Shiro ran 'fer me last time. I want you 'ta do it. Yer' not as messy."

"Che, why the fuck can't you do it? It's 'yer fuckin merch."

"Can't talk 'bout it," Gin said, his voice icy, "Sides, 'ya owe me. Unless 'ya want me 'ta stop hustlin' 'ta that piece of skank ass 'ya've been tappin' 'fer the past month and a half."

"Ya wouldn'."

"Fuck, Nnoi, even _you_ could do better than tha' cum dumpster."

"Shut the fuck up, Gin."

And with that, the conversation was over. Nnoitra wasn't well-versed in exactly what Gin did, but he knew enough to know where to pick up. Gin had left the supplier with a short list of trusted contacts, people he would vouch his own dick on in case shit went south.

Nnoitra just happened to be on that short list, along with Shirosaki and Grimmjow, although Gin had never had to resort to using Grimmjow. He wouldn't ever put his best friend in that situation, not when Gin knew he had Neliel to look out for.

Business for the evening/morning taken care of, Gin proceeded up the stairs slowly, the darkness swallowing him up as he ascended.

* * *

Shuhei couldn't believe it was happening. This was finally happening.

_I'm gonna sleep with Ichimaru Gin. I'm gonna get my heart broken. _

Yeah, he knew exactly what he was getting himself into, but Shuhei was stubborn if nothing else. He needed this. Maybe after a few fucks, he'd be able to get Gin out of his system.

His heart vehemently protested this thought.

So Shuhei dropped his pants and boxers, his shirt already removed. He was standing stark naked next to his bed, and he didn't feel ashamed at all. In fact, he felt powerful.

He'd show Gin what he was denying himself. He hadn't asked for promises or poetry. He'd asked for a roll in the sack between two people who had obvious chemistry, and if there was more than that, then that was fine too.

But fuck this insecurity shit. Shuhei tried to live his life to the fullest, and there was no way his brain was going to leave him alone until his dick was satisfied.

But shit, he only started getting intimidated the second Gin entered the room, silent as a snake, and the realization that Shuhei would be bottoming for the first time in his life slammed into him like a semi truck.

Gin approached, his ice eyes burning Shuhei everywhere until he was sure he was on fire.

"On tha' bed," he ordered lowly.

Shuhei fought a shiver as he crawled onto the bed, unsure of what to do or where to go. Should he get on his back? His stomach? He didn't know what Gin wanted.

"All fours. Like a dog," Gin said, answering Shuhei's internal reverie.

Shuhei glared at him over his shoulder, "I'm not a fuckin' animal."

"Ya' want me 'ta fuck ya 'er not?"

Shuhei couldn't help but curve his back a little bit at the tone of voice, a moan nearly escaping as he did as he was told, his arms shaking slightly as he supported his weight.

The bed shifted as Gin's weight was added and Shuhei couldn't help but gasp as Gin's freezing fingers traveled over his legs, back, and ass.

Without warning, Gin slapped his right ass cheek, making Shuhei yelp.

"What the fuck, G-nnnnnn-ah!"

The last thing in the fucking WORLD Shuhei would have expected was a warm tongue probing at his virgin hole. The slap in combination had been so unexpected that Shuhei was already adjusting his legs, lifting his ass up higher in invitation.

"Fuckin' hate lube," Gin murmured, his hands spreading Shuhei's cheeks more forcefully before licking a trail from Shuhei's balls to his taint, "With all that blast in 'yer system, I'm surprised 'ya managed 'ta get it up, Shu-chan."

"Gg," Shuhei shuddered, his head and dick pounding from the incredible and embarrassing attention being paid to his ass, "Y-you always make me hard."

That was all Shuhei managed to get out before Gin had him on sensory overload and he couldn't think much less speak. He just continued to make strange, whining, gasping noises that finally made Gin chuckle as he entered two fingers into Shuhei.

"Ya cry like a whore, Shu-chan…ya gonna be a slut 'fer ma' dick?"

Shuhei moaned, one of his hands trying to tug at his own dripping cock when he felt Gin slap his hand away before he grabbed it in a bruising force and started stroking in sync with his pistoning fingers.

"Hnn-gahhh, Gin!"

"Hn, I like tha'."

"G-Gin, I'm gonna…"

Gin entered a third finger, rubbing a very swollen and irritated prostate that Gin had nearly expertly coaxed into inflammation. He removed his hand from Shuhei's cock, determined to make him cum from his prostate alone.

Shuhei was breathing so heavily he was shaking.

_And 3, 2, 1…_

Gin twisted his fingers almost viciously, forcing a scream out of Shuhei as he was over-stimulated, firecrackers exploding in his blood as he came, white spots appearing in his vision.

He started sobbing as he rode it out, his spine feeling like a rollercoaster, finally understanding why Ulquiorra had never complained about bottoming even once.

He was vaguely aware of Gin's voice, but it was heavy and he was at the bottom of the ocean and his vision was swimming and he felt his eyes close before the world came crashing down.

* * *

"Yer' not ready 'fer me," Gin said, watching Shuhei's back arch and his entire body tremble as he released a feral cry that had Gin as hard as a cinderblock.

Gin hadn't expected Shuhei to pass out after one orgasm, but maybe the boy had been that overwhelmed. Gin hadn't pegged Shuhei for a top, but from what he had just witnessed, the kid had never even played with himself much less had a tongue and fingers pleasuring his prostate.

It made Gin grin though, knowing he had been the first, knowing he had introduced the punk to another level of pleasure powerful enough to knock him out.

Once he realized the kid wasn't going to wake up any time soon, he repositioned him to make him at least a little more comfortable. He didn't want to get blamed later for cramps in his neck or a sore back.

But why the fuck did he care anyway? Why was he still here, watching Shuhei as he breathed and looked drop dead sexy in his sheets and sweat?

_..._

_..._

_...What the fuck am I doin'?_

...

_A/N: Questions? Concerns? Drop me a review and lemme know. -TPP_


	18. Quick Announcement

Quick Announcement

Hey guys sorry I've dropped off the face of the planet (or so it seems). I'm not even going to bullshit you, I've been working and trying to figure out how to tackle fall since I'm graduating and have to do something with my life now, but I PROMISE I'm not giving up my fan fiction writing. All stories WILL be finished in their own time, so no worries on that battlefront.

Any who, I know you're pissed that this isn't an actual update, but I wanted to get the word out because I forgot to and now it's only in a few weeks, so I wanted to give you guys a head's up in case any of you are in the area.

I'll be hosting a MATURE fanfiction panel called "Perverts Anonymous" at Mizu Con in Miami, Florida. The con is August 17-19, and the panel will be that Saturday night, the 18th. Not sure what time yet, but I'll be at the con, so if any of you guys are near me, please come say hi. I can't wait for the panel: it'll be a really good time. I'll be hosting other panels that weekend too. I know this is the internet and people are spread all over the place, even other countries, but just wanted to share. Check out the official Mizu Con website for more details about who's attending and what's going on: it was my favorite con last year, so I know it's going to be fun.

Thanks guys and I'll be updating soon! I'm going to try my hardest to get as much material out as possible before the fall semester starts as I'll be substitute teaching brats in middle school and high school on top of weaseling my way into grad school, so hold tight! I won't forget about my stories: I know they seem to take forever, but leaving reviews like "update soon" and "you haven't updated in forever are you ever going to finish" only pressures me and makes me go do other things besides write. I'm also working on original short fiction for publication, so please avoid making me grumpy.

Thanks for sticking with me so far. -TPP


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